Slash of the Titans OR How Kurogane Got His Groove Back
by Uakari
Summary: An amalgamation of unfairly treated Greek myths. Also starring Mokona as the Kraken.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **This was written for the 2013 Kurofai Olympics, for the prompt "Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea." Yeah, I'm not sure how that turned into Kuro-dite and Faionysus either. It's best not to look into some things too far. Anyway, the good news is that the fic is complete! The bad news is that I am a being of very little brain and kind of jammed most of the writing of it into oh...three days (like you do...), so I am breaking it into smaller chapters so I can edit as I post. There are six in total, and I will try my damnedest to post one chapter per day!

* * *

_The beginning of a story is a fickle thing, depending on how thorough one wishes to be in its telling. This story is no different; ascribing a singular point in time the title of "beginning" is a tricky business and more guesswork than science. Does it begin seven thousand years prior to the bulk of its events, with the birth of a god and his human twin brother, or is the story of their birth better left secondary to the larger tale? Perhaps it's best to begin the narration with the introduction of the rest of the cast – a sort of "first meetings" scenario that drags the reader in and hooks them with its coyness and promises of things to come. Certainly neither of these are inconsequential to the story at large but, as is so often the case with case with tales of gods and immortals, the time gaps left between these and the bits that are actually interesting are staggering, and have a habit of irritating both reader and narrator._

_Perhaps the best to begin this tale of two gods and the human son they have raised as their own is to simply set the scene at the beginning of the "interesting bits" and work from there._

* * *

Along the outskirts of Clow – greatest city of the eastern seaboard, home to the finest craftsmen and philosophers the world has known, and birthplace of the triple-dipped octopus popper – a sprawling, ancient vineyard can be found tucked into the sleepy inland hills (not so far inland as to start border disputes with the heathens in Infinity to the west, but far enough to make travel to the capital district of Outo a day-long endeavor). Its haggard appearance notwithstanding, the grapes grown and pressed here are the finest of the region and the wines aged from them in great demand among the upper classes, commoners, and priests alike. There are many who insist the soil here must be watered by runoff from Mount Edonis – home to the Gods who rule over humanity – or perhaps nourished by the blessing of the great Clow himself. Still others maintain that the strange and eccentric owner is a direct descendant of the wine god Faionysis: a man of divine quality gifted to the earth to produce wines fit for the gods. Some of these speculations are, naturally, more correct than others, but even within the walls of the vineyard, the quality of the owner remains a hotly debated subject.

The quality of the wine, however, has never been disputed. At the peak of harvest season, hundreds of field workers will flood the gates before dawn, anxious to be associated with the excellence of craft the vineyard is renowned for, and labor as late into the evening as the sun allows. The following months of fermentation and aging will fill the vast, labyrinthine cellars to the brim until spring, until the first casks are broken into to sample the vintage. This first sampling is sent out to temples far and wide for spring rituals; the rest will be stored in amphorae and distributed throughout the next years (assuming it lasts that long: the past three summers have seen the cellars run dry before the next harvest).

Fortunately (or unfortunately, if you happen to be one of the local day laborers currently out of work), the season of intense labor has passed, giving way to the long slumber of winter and finally the first, dripping announcements of spring's thaw. For now, the days begin later and end earlier and, while they may hustle and scurry to complete the days tasks while the sun is up, a general torpor settles over the vineyard in the dark hours and allows for restful nights.

So, it is a strange sight, in the early hours of the morning – before the sun has even splintered overtop the sagging tree line on the horizon – to find a shadowy figure creeping down the back stairway of the main house, skipping every third step or so to cut back the number of creaks and groans slipping from the wooden planks. The skips are a valiant effort, but a fruitless one in the end – this particular set of stairs breezed through the prime of its life some twenty years prior and is lucky its struts have yet to buckle under their own weight. The shadow figure's shoulders flinch at each mournful whine his steps drag out of the boards. Despite all appearances, this is not a burglar, nor even the repentant participant of a one-night-stand about to embark on one of the longer walks of shame their short life will ever see, but has, in fact, recently been named as one of the owners of this humble abode (at least on paper). He is, however, not aware of this, and as such is doomed to the fate of all teenage boys creeping around their parents' house under the cover of night.

"Hold it right there, hot shot," his father (by all measures that matter, if not by biology)'s voice rings (or possibly giggles) out from behind him, "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

Syaoran (former shadowy figure and current grotesquely illuminated figure caught in the glare of his father's candle) ducks right and attempts – very _casually_ – to blend in with the stacked barrels taking up space along the inner wall of the courtyard. When this inevitably fails, he opts for a more tactful approach and steps forward with his head bowed. "Good morning, Fai," he says with a note of exasperation coloring his voice. That Fai is awake this early in the morning can only mean one thing-

"It's _morning?_" Fai's eyes widen – not from surprise at this news, Syaoran realizes a moment too late, but because he's lost all sense of balance and finds himself suddenly unable to control both the lurch of his head and pitch of his trunk at the same time. Syaoran manages to steady him before he tumbles into the barrels – if only _just_ – and settles him on the bottom stair before he can do any more damage to himself or the clutter in the courtyard.

"Were you out all night?" he asks, delicately leaving off the 'again' that is lingering in the back of his throat. "Getting an early start on the Spring Festival?"

The Spring Festival is the largest of its brethren celebrated by the people of Clow. For most, it's nothing more than an occasion to cast away the scarcity of winter and spring by gorging on the early harvest and polishing off the remaining stores of last year's wine, and has garnered a well-earned reputation over the years for the high incidence of drunken hedonism, debauchery, and outright obscenity that overflow yearly into the streets. For those who know better (or at least proclaim to), it is a celebration of the return of the Great Yuuko – guardian of the growing season – from the underworld and the descent of Clow to rule therein until the fall. It is also an important occasion to appease (and perhaps curry favor with) the erratic and often volatile gods that rule over them from Mount Edonis.

"Of course!" Fai snorts, "…not. _Of course not!_ That doesn't start till sundown." He crosses one shin precariously up and over the opposite knee and leans in to brace his elbows against it. His face – distorting and retorting through a startling array of configurations – he catches with the heels of his hands to hold in place as he sways from side to side. "We stayed in," he says very seriously, "Discuss'd y'r future. We were debating whether it would be more loo…luck…_more money_ to sell you to the royal household as a servant or try to marry you off into it-"

"That's hilarious, Fai," Syaoran sighs. He holds out his hand toward his father patiently, hoping he can at least get him up and moving toward his bed, but opts for a more direct approach as Fai takes the opportunity to stare blankly back at his fingertips, and grabs him around the wrist. "And here I thought I would hang around here for a while…keep you from drowning in the bottom of a barrel…" The last bit of this is muttered quietly to himself as he wrenches his shoulders back to pull Fai up and off the stair.

"You're no fun, Syaoran," Fai assures him, "You could at least insist that there is some precious little country girl here that you can't bear to be away from. That your heart would break in two if you couldn't see her radiant smile every morning as she tiptoes out to milk the goats and slips and you get a lovely view-"

"Come on, Fai," Syaoran tightens his grip as Fai teeters backward, lost in his own building laughter. Fai is at least on his feet, but threating to topple back over any second; Syaoran hauls him forward until he's practically slung across his shoulder.

"Course, you couldn't feel that way, could you?"

"What are you talking about, Fai?"

"Nothing, nothing."

Fai snores gently against his shoulder. Syaoran nudges him gently – at least until Fai snorts and he's sure he's awake. "Where's Kurogane? You didn't leave him at the tavern again, did you?"

"Naw, that old killjoy was in bed hours ago," Fai grumbles against Syaoran's shirt. He pushes himself up with one arm and ruffles the other violently through his hair, hissing through his teeth the entire while. "He'll be awake any minute to remind me that I've forgotten to – oh _shit!_ I've completely forgotten to load the cart for the two of you to take into Outo today!" His hair ruffling becomes yanking and tearing at the roots as he lurches forward to bang his forehead against the wall of the house. "I'm never going to hear the end of it!" he whines, "You're going to have to get yourself some breakfast, Syaoran. I have to-"

"Fai-"

"Can't believe I spent the entire night howling at the goats in the park again-"

_"Fai!"_ Syaoran manages to catch his father's attention just in time to register what he's said, "It's fine – I already- Wait, you just said you'd been home all night."

"I _lied,_ Syaoran," Fai cries, laying a hand across his son's shoulder and burying his face into the opposite palm, "I'm a terrible father." He pulls back, eyes darting about wildly, and sinks his teeth into the flesh of his hand. "I'm a terrible businessman too. That's the sacrificial wine – if it's not delivered on time-"

"Fai!" Syaoran grabs him by both shoulders and _shakes_, "It's fine. I took care of it last night before I went to bed." He stares at Fai for a long moment with concern. "While you and Kurogane were arguing over whether or not ducks and crows are made of the same kind of meat-"

"They're not, you know," Fai says quickly, "Crows sink if you put them in water. Now, tits on the other hand-"

"Either way, I'm sure the gods aren't going to punish you because the wine is a little late," Syaoran sighs. The sun will be breaking over the horizon at any moment, destroying the last of the pleasant morning half-light, and along with it-

"You don't know them like I do!" Fai interrupts the flow of his thoughts, "But that's-" he cocks his head back to fix Syaoran with an approving, if slightly wobbly glance, "That's very good of you. You're a good son."

"Thanks-"

"Even if you are skulking around my house in the dark like some sort of miscreant." His arm catches Syaoran around the waist and pulls him close to breath enough alcohol into his ear to intoxicate a horse, "What are you doing up at this hour, anyway? Sneaking out to your little girlfriend's?"

"No," Syaoran attempts to lean away, but only ends up getting pulled closer, "I thought maybe I'd get a head start on prepping the horses and then…" he trails off as he realizes that Fai isn't listening to a damned word coming out of his mouth and is instead carrying on about girls and tits and Syaoran not appreciating his jokes.

"Still, you're such a good son," Fai repeats, "Let's get you some breakfast. I'm sure Kurogane is going to want some too before you two take off for the city. And Clow Almighty knows he has to turn everything into such a _production_. Don't know what we'd do without you."

"Well, I won't be going anywhere for a while," Syaoran mumbles.

"Don't be silly," Fai swings the door to the kitchen open and shoves Syaoran through the frame, "You're a man already. You won't want to live at home with your dads forever-"

"And why is that?" A gruff figure is waiting for them in the kitchen, leaning heavily over the center table with a crust of bread in his fist. Kurogane – his other father (again, maybe not biologically, but in all the ways that really matter) – fixes the two of them with a measured glare. Syaoran bites back a curse – this is exactly the scene he's been hoping to avoid this morning. He braces himself for the inevitable fireworks as Fai drops his hold on him and storms across the kitchen to rifle around the hearth. "Is there something wrong with my house?"

"It's natural that children should fly the nest," Fai grumbles in Kurogane's general direction. He fusses about with pile of logs for longer than should be necessary, but eventually manages to get a fire started. "What are you doing up already, Kuro-fancy? Wasn't expecting to see you for another hour at least."

"Tche," Kurogane snorts over his bread, "Figured you'd forget to pack the cart for us. So I got up early."

"Well," Fai waves an overly large wooden paddle in front of his face, "I didn't. Or, I did, but Syaoran already took care of it." He nods sagely and sets about emptying the contents of a large ceramic jar into the cast iron cooking cauldron. "No harm done."

"Every year it's the same," Kurogane grumbles, "Same festival, same order. What kind of idiot can't manage to remember the one commitment he has to the state? Miss these deliveries and we'll have to sell the kid into servitude."

Fai grins wickedly back at him. "Sorry, Kuro-_love_, I'm afraid I missed that. Something about not being able to do the one thing you're assigned?"

"Shut up." Kurogane's mug comes crashing down on the table. The table itself thuds against his thighs as he stands too quickly and nearly takes it over in his wake. "I'll be in the stable. Syaoran, get your breakfast and get outside. We've got a long day ahead of us."

Syaoran swallows heavily. His earlier attempts at impressing his fathers have been all but thwarted – this very well may be the one chance he has left-

"Actually," he stammers, "Kurogane. Um." He's worked himself through this speech many times in the past twenty four hours. So many times, in fact, that he's managed to echo the words into formlessness and banish them from his memory completely. "I was thinking," _- yes, good, it was something along these lines _- "Maybe I could…" - _could he? _- "Maybe I could take the wine into Clow. By myself. And you wouldn't need to worry about it this year."

Kurogane stares back at him. "Why?"

"Well," Syaoran starts, "Because…" He hasn't planned this far ahead. He didn't actually believe that he would ever get the words out in the first place, so where was the point in justifying them? "Because I'm almost nineteen and-"

"Because he's a grown man, Kuro-lust," Fai interrupts loudly. He's managed to saunter all the way across the room in the time it's taken Syaoran to formulate his partial thought and is now engaged in the very serious business of warding Kurogane back toward the table. "Grown men don't need their fathers haunting their every footstep." He's gesticulating wildly with his cooking spoon, sending glops of smashed, molten fig mush spattering around himself, and Kurogane is forced back toward the table just to avoid a nasty, sticky burn.

Kurogane's shins clatter against the table legs as his posterior crashes back onto the stool; his fist isn't far behind in smashing down onto the table. "Have you lost your damned mind?" he roars. "Do you remember the little incident ten years ago when you promised that you'd take care of-"

"Of course I don't remember ten years ago, Kuro-smooch," Fai laughs and slams a cup of wine down on the table in front of him, "And neither should you. You'll be old before your time." He drops a small loaf of bread next to the cup and skips back toward the fire.

Kurogane tears a chunk off the bread and jabs it into his cup. "Do you remember last night then?"

"Vaguely."

"Tche," Kurogane snorts and sucks down the soaked bit of bread, "And what time did it occur to you to stop drinking and load up the damned cart?"

"Oh pssh," Fai waves this away with practiced ease. One does not spend as mornings fending off an irritable business partner whilst on the verge of a hangover as he is prone to without learning to carefully ignore a good deal of what comes out of their mouths. He rounds back on Kurogane with a stern look, "All of your complaints are about me, so please just let him go. It's been forever since you spent the Spring Festival in town here anyway. You can come give me a hand in the shop." He does his very best to bat his eyelashes and squeak a pathetic whine out of the base of his throat. "I'll make it worth your while."

"Please, Kurogane," Syaoran repeats, "Let me prove that I can take care of the business on my own."

"Fine," Kurogane grumbles and tears what remains of his bread in two, "But, you be home by sundown." He levels one fistful of bread toward Syaoran, "Which means you're back on the road right after the last delivery."

"Yes, I will be!"

"No chariot racing. No wrestling. And if I find out you missed any-"

"You'll sell him into servitude," Fai finishes, "We know, Kuro-drum. Do you have any idea how often you repeat yourself?"

"Tche," Kurogane scoffs and shoves the last of the bread into his mouth. He heaves himself up and away from the table – carefully avoiding Fai this time – and huffs out into the yard.

Fai skips across the room and presses a few coins into Syaoran's hand. "Be home by midnight," he hisses, "Any later and I can't guarantee that I can keep him occupied." Syaoran nods furtively and shoves the coins into his pocket. "And Syaoran," Fai grabs his wrist as he heads toward the door, "Make sure you bet on a fast chariot."

"Right!" Syaoran laughs and makes a mad dash for the stables before either of them changes their minds. He makes a quick sign of obeisance to the state of Yue, messenger of the gods outside the front door, then sets to work of hitching the horses to the cart and sets off down the road – not toward Outo itself, but toward the small row of shops in the town center.

Outside the Yamazaki blacksmith's shop, he stops his team and jumps to the ground to gather a few choice bits of rock, which he hurls toward the second floor windows. A head peeks out from the shutters to grumble at him, eyes still sodden with sleep, but brightens as he registers that it's Syaoran waking him at such a dismal hour and his terrifying father is nowhere to be seen. He hoots triumphantly, throws the shutters wide – exposing rather more of him than even the dawn needs to see – and hurls himself out the window.

He lands with a thud on the bench of the cart, grinning and – much to Syaoran's chagrin – sprawled as wide as the great Omo Plains. "I can't believe you managed it!" he laughs, though Syaoran is more invested in averting his eyes than listening at the moment. "Give me a hand with this thing, will you?"

"There's no reason you couldn't have done this ahead of time…" Syaoran grumbles as he fumbles with Yamazaki's shoulder fastinings.

"Didn't think you would be able to slip the scary one," Yamazaki says very seriously, "I didn't want to miss out on my beauty sleep." He ties the waist of his tunic and prances in a little circle to make sure it's swaying the way he likes. "Did the garlic and stafylinos work?"

"No," Syaoran says huffily and plops himself onto the bench, "And I looked that up – it's not a sleeping potion, it's an aphrodisiac."

"I didn't say it would knock them out-"

Syaoran snaps the reigns and shouts the horses into a start before he can finish. He knows better by now than to trust anything that comes out of Yamazaki's mouth, but it's hard to stop him talking all the same. And sometimes he's _really_ convincing, so stopping him before he really gets going is key. The sudden jolt of the cart seems to do this nicely, however, so Syaoran relaxes their speed and doubles back to pick up the long, winding road into Outo.


	2. Chapter 2

_Yuuko alone has not always been perceived as the guardian of spring, nor did she always rule separately from Clow. Many generations of worshippers, in fact, revered the two of them together as the joint heads of Mount Edonis and acknowledged the brother of Clow – Fei Wong – as the Lord of the Underworld._

_That this has changed over the centuries evinces dire upheavals both in the human and unseen worlds._

_It's often been said that humans pay little attention to the goings on of the gods unless they are directly involved, and this is true for the most part. It's not that they're incurious; the problem is more that the gods are so utterly frivolous that rigid human brains have a difficult time parsing why immensely powerful beings devote so much of their time to acting like spoilt children. It's no accident, then, that most major upheavals in their belief structures tend follow concurrently major upheavals in their social structures: there is no better way to involve a massive number of humans in the goings on of the gods than to start a war._

* * *

Kurogane manages to avoid Fai's attention for the next two hours and counts himself lucky for it. He's not at all comfortable sending Syaoran into the city by himself, and he's not at all comfortable with whatever Fai has up his sleeve for the day. It's probably going to be terrible. It's _definitely _going to be terrible, just like every "idea" he's had for the past…however many years they've been doing this.

He's too old for this shit.

In a way, this is a true statement. A 5,000 year old god (or somewhere thereabouts – he stopped counting after the fifth century) _is_ too old to be lead around by the nose by his addlebrained, wine-soaked companion, even if that companion is a 7,000 year old god (or somewhere thereabouts – Fai had stopped counting after 25 years) himself. Then again, a god really ought to have a handle on his one and only job by his 5,000th year.

Then again again, love is a rotten thing to be a god of.

It's been – by Kurogane's count – ninety-five years since he stopped enjoying this immortality business. According to the history books (the reputable ones, at any rate, which are rarely as informed as they pretend), this puts the turning point somewhere during the tail end of the first Dragan War. This isn't terribly surprising; Draogs had hosted a war for the ages, and had quite drastically altered the course of human (and immortal) history, in addition to spurring a number of epic retellings and capturing the imaginations of at least two generations of story-tellers.

(If humans love one thing, it is a sweeping tale of adventure and romance, preferably with a strong moral lesson so they feel comfortable telling it to their kids before ushering them off to bed. If they love a second, it's to hear about misfortune befalling the preening moral scolds who actually took those childhood lessons seriously.)

(Humans are awful creatures, but they do tell good stories.)

The abridged history goes something like this:

* * *

_The Togakushi Kingdom, west of the Cephirean Sea, is a small, but relatively powerful player in regional politics of the day. This threatens to change with the untimely death of King Kyougo and the ascension of his barely-16-year-old son to the throne, but the young King Fuuma manages to hold the kingdom together better than anyone expects. Trade continues unabated, the public coffers are kept full with taxes and tariffs, and his subjects carry on quite as if they aren't ruled by a hormonal teenager who is subject to the whims of his testosterone levels._

_It's a stupid mistake, but then again, so are most of the driving forces of human history. It keeps things interesting, if not exactly stable._

_It takes less than a year for the king's equally young lover to discover that his burning passions are not directed toward the king after all, but toward the king's sister. It takes less than a fortnight beyond that for the pair to abscond, leaving only a short note of apology in their wake (which has, as most notes do, the opposite of its intended effect). This sort of thing isn't necessarily uncommon – especially amongst the upper classes who can afford a good scandal when it suits them – nor is it especially damaging to the political economy of any country not ruled by a spurned sixteen-year-old with a massive army at his disposal. As it was, Togakushi is 2 for 2 on that score – all they lack, in the moment, is a proper target for their aggressions._

_This problem resolves itself much sooner than anyone expects. Across the Cephirean Sea, the city of Dragos lays at the mouth of the Fahren straight, which separates the Kingdom of Autozam in the north from Chizeta in the south and leaves the city nicely positioned as a sort of gatekeeper to the eastern trade routes. This is a role that Dragos takes very seriously. So seriously, in fact, that it has declared itself a neutral party in all local politics, and doubly neutral in all regional politics. It shuns warfare of all kinds and has even become known for their legion of peace-keeping liaisons that attempt to keep their neighbors in line as well. This keeps the traffic flowing into their ports and provides a handy bartering chip whenever questions arise over how high their tariffs are creeping or whether or not it's fair of them to demand that all passers through adhere to local ordinances regarding personal hygiene or the lack thereof. They're good at their job, too; not a single interruption in trade traffic between east and west has occurred under their watch._

_At least, not until a certain fugitive couple from Togakushi decides to put the limits of Dragos's neutrality to the test._

_It is, perhaps, lucky for them that Prince Subaru, current ruler of the city (in practice, though his grandmother still holds the official title of Queen), is more interested in the immediate comfort of his guests than in appeasement of a faceless foreign government. It's also lucky that he isn't paying any mind to the doom and gloom prophecies of his sister this week, as she's been seeing the same bloody useless dream for three months and is creating some serious doubts about the 99.9% Accuracy in Foresight rating she boasts. It is much less lucky for them, however, that they are spotted within moments of landing on the docks, and downright unlucky that the patrons of Dragos's port are in no way as scrupulous as the leaders of the city. (It's also true that Prince Subaru spent more time playing with the palace penguins in his youth than learning the art of emergency negotiation, but that's neither here nor there as they aren't given much opportunity for negotiation in the end.)_

_Within a month, King Fuuma musters a fleet and lands it on the Dragan shore. For the first time in history, the port is incapacitated as forces lay siege to the city._

_Dragos's defenses hold up remarkably well for the first month or so. Its people may be fat and dull with prosperity, but they're also acutely aware of their position in the world and, like all those at the top of the food chain, terrified of losing it. The walls and gates persevere through onslaught after onslaught, and slowly but surely, King Fuuma's forces are pushed back, until it's all looking very bleak for the young King's love life._

_Then one morning, the Dragans wake to find their beaches empty._

_Perhaps it's the slow whittling away of their forces that finally convinces the Togakushiites to admit defeat, or perhaps the Dragans' continuous taunting from the battlements and slurs regarding the size of King Fuuma's "forces" (Legend has it that at one point the King ordered six dozen or more scale models of his endowments fired over the walls to prove that he did, in fact, understand innuendo and was not amused. The "not amused" part became much clearer as the models spontaneously combusted after about fifteen minutes. If true, this is the one good, solid hit the Togakushiites managed to score against Dragos thus far.) has finally demoralized the troops beyond hope. Whatever the case, the Togakushiites have abandoned their camps and taken to the seas once again, leaving only an enormous wooden penguin in their wake._

_This is, unsurprisingly, one of the more ridiculous things the people of Dragos have ever seen, but the gesture of good faith toward their penguin-obsessed Prince is unmistakable. And so, after a lengthy discussion about how long is too long to leave it rotting on the beach, the penguin is hauled in through the gate and proudly displayed in the city center._

_The city center, as it turned out, is an ideal place launch an offensive, which is exactly what the 50 Togakushiite soldiers hiding inside the penguin do, just after the sun sets and everyone who isn't a lying, cheating, coward is busy tucking their children into bed. The gates are flung wide and the invading Togakushiites swarm the city. Within hours, the Dragans are overwhelmed, Prince Subaru meets an untimely end in the midst of the confusion, and all of his sister's doom and gloom predictions come to pass. Seeing this, the no-longer-quite-as-young fugitive lovers despaire and launch themselves from the highest tower of the citadel in one of the more shocking displays of codependency ever seen in this part of the world. The battle rages through the night and when the sun rises the next morning, Dragos is no more._

* * *

It's pretty standard fare as far as war histories go, and isn't – in Kurogane's humble opinion – worth all the fuss made over it. Nor it is much improved by the addition of interfering gods and drunken mishaps to the narrative. No matter how many times it is rewritten into a festival drama or embellished with local traditions, it still ends the same, with the city destroyed and Kurogane wishing he had never heard of Dragos.

Of course, that wish has less to do with poor storytelling than the unavoidable truth that the _unabridged_ history of Dragos, with all of its interfering gods and drunken mishaps, is directly responsible for Kurogane's current situation. Had Dragos not fallen, he might still be an awesome, terrible God of War, lording it over his realm with practiced ease, instead of an impotent disgrace who can't even manage to make the hearts of teenagers go pitter-patter in the springtime. He might return to Mount Edonis, where he belongs, instead of languishing on this ancient, run down vineyard.

Mostly though, he would not have to be dealing with a perpetually drunken Wine God who, despite being several thousand years older than Kurogane, remains completely incapable of taking care of himself or anything around him, and whose ideas on how to solve Kurogane's can't-be-a-midpoint-to-something-that-doesn't-end life crisis have gotten steadily worse over the course of the centuries.

He can only guess what today's exercise in inanity will be.

He doesn't have very long to devote to guessing games, however. Fai has been actively tearing apart the house looking for him for the past half hour, and it's really only a matter of time until it occurs to him to look in the room Kurogane has claimed for the past hundred years. He sighs and heads for the door – he might as well just spare himself the trouble and announce his presence before the fussing starts in earnest.

"Oi!" he barks, leaning over the balcony ledge to the courtyard below, "I'm up here. Let's hurry up and get this over with." He storms down the staircase just in time to catch Fai as he stumbles out the backdoor of the kitchen. "Did you leave any for dinner?" he grumbles as a cloud of wine surrounds him.

"There is always more for dinner, Kuro-yearning," Fai peels himself off Kurogane's arm and back to his full height, "But for right now I'm going to need you to focus on getting someone else drunk on passion, alright?"

"I knew this was what you were up to-"

"Well I would hope so! You still owe me after all," Fai smiles sloppily and grips his wrist to drag him along out of the house. "Kakei hired some new help for the store, and could use a hand with them. Practically have to restrain them to keep them off each other he says-"

"That's got nothing to do with-" Kurogane starts to say, but shuts his mouth as the door bangs shut behind them. Fai shoots a _look_ at him that insists that it's got _everything_ to do with him and he'd better not try to argue or there will be Consequences. Not that there is any point in arguing anyway, since Fai is already dragging him down the street and it's either this or an afternoon spent ducking drunken cat-calls and picking up dishes he's dropped.

They stop outside a small shop just on the edge of the town center. The signage out front reads "Kakei Fine Wines and Apothecary" but in reality, this is Fai's business as well. He'd stumbled across Kakei – a minor deity specializing in curatives – seventy-some-odd years back and after a lot of intentional drinking and some accidental experimentation, they'd discovered a fairly potent cure-all made of wine, valerian, and soft-shelled turtle (which only worked if the grapes had been pressed beneath the feet of a god and the wine force-fed to the turtle before it was…_ripe_ for harvesting…truly an _accidental_ discovery, mind you). Since then, Fai has refused to entrust sales of his wine to anyone else, which is just as well because Kakei has refused to move out of the attic of the shop.

Kurogane isn't sure when, exactly, Saiga joined Kakei, but he_ is_ sure that the addition of the messenger god to the store has only increased the number of headaches he's blessed with on a regular basis.

He's keenly aware of everyone and everything's position as he enters the shop. There is no way he's going home with a tunic full of slippery olives again today. Not even if Saiga has hidden himself-

"Gah! You're mixing up the straw wine with the spiced stuff!"

"No, it's the sa-"

"You are, you idiot! You're going to get our pay docked again!"

"It's the same thing. Look at the jars!"

_"WHY ARE YOUR HANDS ON MY THIGHS?"_

"Those aren't my hands-"

"THEY HAD BETTER NOT BE ANYTHING ELSE OF YOURS EITHER!"

Kurogane blinks at the two youths Kakei has brought in to work for him as they bicker from one end of the store to the other. It's true that they're having difficulty in keeping their hands off one another, but hardly in the manner Fai had implied. Or in a manner that will be at all useful.

He grabs the fanciest amphora he can find and stalks to the backroom. It's going to be a long afternoon, and he the little bit of wine he tucked down with breakfast just isn't going to cut it.

* * *

_Whether or not Fei Wong had a very, very, very good reason, merely a good reason, or was just an unscrupulous bastard for his role in fanning the flames of the First Dragan War is still one of the most hotly contested topics amongst the elite on mount Edonis. This is not without good reason, either: Fei Wong's abdication of duty may have resulted in a massive restructuring of the pantheon (and a massive headache for everyone), but most immortals have a great deal of trouble constructing a coherent argument that they would have done differently in his circumstances. In fact, most immortals make it a point to avoid the underworld entirely, and those that have set foot in its halls generally delegate a good deal of energy toward the cause of never having to go back. If the darkness is not enough to make you crave the touch of the sun at any cost, the wailing of the residents is enough to drive even the stoutest of hearts stark raving mad. As ruler of the Underworld, Fei Wong had rarely stepped out of his realm – was rarely _allowed_ to step out. Still, this had been a job Fei Wong had accepted eagerly: if his brother Clow would rule the heavens, then so would he rule the underworld. He had ruled for many centuries thereafter with great aplomb, so while the sudden shift to shady backroom deals and warmongering might have been unsurprising in another god, most had expected it would take another millennium or two before Fei Wong resorted to such drastic measures to secure himself a holiday._

* * *

It's just past noon when Syaoran drives the cart up to the gates of Outo, and the sun is beating down bright enough and hot enough to make the "Spring" part of the festival seem unseasonable. Beyond the walls, the streets are already busy with the bustle of festival traffic: ringing bells and braying animals, shouting vendors and screaming children running wild. But he's not going to be joining them any time soon, unless he can find the entry pass he knows is stashed _somewhere_ in the carriage box before Yamazaki manages to make an enemy of each and every guard standing watch.

"Did you know that in Chizeta, the men are ranked by how far they can spit olive pits?" Yamazaki is saying. Syaoran rifles through the stack of parchment scrolls more forcefully. "It's true! Every year they pick the least likeable person in town as a target, and then line everyone else up against the city walls and whoever spits the farthest gets to be the king for a year!"

"If it's a distance competition, then what do they need a target for, kid?"

"Probably shame, I guess. Usually the least likeable person in town is a used chariot salesman, so this helps keep them honest-"

"Got it!" Syaoran yelps triumphantly and thrusts the scroll toward the guard next to him with his head bowed.

The guard gives it a stern thrice-over and reluctantly lowers his spear. "Alright, you're cleared."

"Thank you, sir."

"Just keep that kid away from the doom prophets – they don't need any encouragement."

"Will do, sir."

The guard grumbles an unintelligible reply that Syaoran doesn't stick around to hear. He snaps the reigns and drives the horses through the gate. The narrow gap for entry between the stone walls makes this entire process painfully slow – which is probably the point – and Syaoran is painfully aware of the _looks_ being cast in their direction as he maneuvers onto the main roadway.

The city seems familiar than it has in past years. Even though he's passed through these crowded, dusty streets numerous times, each cramped, crooked doorway and peeling façade looks new. Or maybe he just never took the opportunity to really look before. Now, charged with not only delivering the festival's wine, but keepin his horses from running amok while doing it, everything about the maze of streets seemed ten times more complicated, ten times less familiar, and ten times more beautiful. It's difficult to peel his eyes away from the brightly colored window dressings and garish displays set out on the walkways to catch the eye and trip the feet. Each is more jarring than the last (he's never seen a dog in a loin cloth before, nor has he ever wanted to), and they haven't passed more than a quarter of the way into the city center yet-

_"Syaoran!"_

Yamazaki has practically climbed into his lap to get at the reigns before Syaoran realizes what is going on. He manages to stop the horses and the cart just before they collide rather spectacularly with the cross-traffic, but not before the more skittish of his horses rears up and sends the both of them tottling into the back end of the cart. The sound of cracking clay grates across his ear drums and smell of wine seeps up through his nostrils. His blood runs cold.

"Oh, good gracious!" Traffic skids to a halt with much shouting and disgruntlement, but there seems to be a special urgency to the patter of one set of footsteps approaching their cart. Before he dares to even open his eyes and survey the damage, one small, gentle hand comes to rest against his shoulder and a second cups against his cheek. "Are you alright?"

He opens his eyes to find a girl, probably about his same age, staring back at him with a horrified expression. She's dressed in clothes that are far more intricate and ornate than anything he's used to seeing and has enough jewelry in her hair and around her neck to finance a small business for half a year. Not royalty – Clow is fiercely proud of its democratic governance – but about as close as one could get in this part of the world.

Certainly not someone Syaoran wants to find himself on the wrong side of.

He flinches back from her and bows his head. "I'm so sorry," he says quickly, "I should have been paying more attention and-"

"Oh no, no!" She grips his hand tightly between her own, "It's really my fault. I blew right through that intersection without looking and well…" She bites her lip and surveys his cart, which is enough to make his heart jump the entirety of the way into his throat. _Kurogane is going to _kill_ him-_

A quick glance around the cart tells him that it's not as bad as her expression is making it out to be – and praise whatever deities are handy for that! – but it's not all that good either. He's lost probably five jars and cracked at least two more – not enough to disrupt his delivery (he was in the habit of packing extra to accommodate his fathers' drinking habits), but certainly enough to make a mess of the cart. And now he had the added bonus of looking like a slasher victim and smelling like a brothel…

"You're hurt," she says and lifts his hand to her face. He's managed to gouge the backside of his palm, but it doesn't look too serious. "Let me wrap it for you."

"No, it's-" he starts to say, but she is already tearing a strip from the hem of her tunic.

"Just let me, I feel terrible," she says and sets about tying it securely around the wound, "That should keep the dirt out at any rate."

"Thank you," he says, appraising her handiwork. He's truly grateful to her and yet-

Something feels wrong. A blank hole in his chest where-

"No, no! It's really very lucky this way!" Syaoran shoots a quick look over his shoulder at Yamazaki, who has already managed to right himself and is in the process of explaining why it's good luck to bleed into your right eye – _oh dear gods above, he really is bleeding into it_ – to a decidedly unimpressed looking girl with silvery ribbons plaited into her pigtails.

Some of that "luck" could have graced them a few seconds earlier.

"Um," the girl says, "My family lives just down the way. Why don't the two of you come by and clean up a bit? It's really the least I can do."

"No, no," Syaoran says, "We're fine." There's really no time, and besides which, he has no desire to be a guest in someone's home when there is a wide open city to explore. "Thank you though. That's very kind of you." He stuffs the leaking jars deeper into the straw that buffers the cart and hopes that will at least absorb what seeps through the cracks. It will have to do for now. "Yamazaki, you alright?"

"Good, good," he laughs. The girl with the pigtails is staring at him like he's grown a second head and backing away slowly. "I was just saying how it's an old custom in Autozam to offer a litter of kittens and one year of servitude to a stranger that you've injured."

"I've never heard that-"

"It's true, though!" Yamazaki jumps back up onto the bench, paying no mind to the way the girls are now huddling together and whispering worriedly to one another, "The kittens are a peace offering – because nothing is more peaceful than snuggly kittens."

"What about the servitude, though?" Syaoran asks. He waves over his shoulder at the girls and turns his attention back to the road. "That just seems…excessive."

"Well, you know," Yamazaki continues, "Kittens are cute but they grow up into cats, and cats are made of pure malevolence." He pauses to scratch his chin. "Well, malevolence and fleas. Anyway, once they're full grown, you can make a meal of them."

Syaoran balks. "And the servitude?"

"Well, you don't want to skin your own cats, do you? Have you ever tried that? You'd be bleeding harder than whatever the person did to you originally. Anyway, this is why the crime rate in Autozam is so low. Hey – where are we heading first? We should really stop by the hippodrome and put our bets in before the races start. And wrestling matches on the green start at 3 o'clock, I read. Kusanagi the Krusher is up against Ryuu-ou the Retched. There's probably going to be a crowd, so we should get there early. I wonder if they'll do the masks again this year – last year they ruled that they went against the 'fully naked' rule, but there's been a lot of public support-"

Syaoran grins to himself as Yamazaki continues to ramble on. Finally, in his nineteenth year, he'll be able to experience everything that the Outo festival has to offer – from wrestling to public debauchery and everything in between (which is actually very little, but he's feeling exceptionally optimistic) – without being held back by his over-protective parents. He pats the pocketful of coins Fai foisted on him earlier this morning and wonders if he might be able to triple it in the chariot races...

* * *

_It is, of course, not unusual for Gods to unhappy with their lot in immortality. Traditionally, the position of "Least Satisfied Deity" has been held by the God(dess) of Love. Whether because their good intentions are inevitably foiled by humanity's jealousy and complicated desires, or because preying on humanity's emotions has a tendency to backfire badly upon those who would dare, the world has seen the passing of no fewer than twelve God(desse)s of Love since the dawn of time, all with their own unique take on the craft._

_It is little surprise, then, that the reigning God of Love during the years of the Dragan War was a bit of a dick and had very few qualms about joining forces with Fei Wong to sow the seeds of discord within the Togakushi Kingdom. (In fact, judging by the sudden uptick in erotic art from this era, his work spread far beyond simply making the King's lover fall for his sister.)_

_It is also little surprise that this particular God of Love did not last through the end of the war._

* * *

The curtains of the backroom have been drawn tightly and all workers shuffled to the front of the store where they won't be privy to the sacred rituals about to be performed. Seated cross-legged on the floor, Kurogane exhales deeply and strikes a flint against his knuckles to light the ritual candles. He places these to either side of him and closes his eyes, allowing the flickering light to soak in through his eyelids and calm his senses.

"Ooh, nice. What is that, sage?"

Kurogane cracks one eye open irritably. Fai is leaning over him, hands planted against his knees so he doesn't topple forward, and attempting to focus his eyes with a bizarre series of winks and flutters and mawing of his jaw. Kurogane fights back the urge to kick his ankles out from under him and instead simply grumbles, "And lavender. Now sit down and shut up."

"Yes, O Passionate One."

"Light the damned incense if you need something to do."

"Yes, O God of Lust."

"Is this all part of the…er…ritual?"

Kurogane sighs and opens his eyes to find Kakei leaning in through the curtained off doorway. He looks confused – which could either be genuine or just a side effect of "the newest batch" he'd insisted Fai dip into with him on their arrival. "Yes," he insists.

"Oh, well then, don't let me bother you – I was just looking for Saiga. Usually he takes his afternoon nap in here-"

"He's under one of the tables up front," Fai says, plopping down on the floor and waving his arm in an approximately "frontward" direction. "If you squat down by the straw wines you should be able to follow the snoring."

"I might have known," Kakei sighs, "It's his other favorite pl-"

"Do you two want this done or not?" Kurogane snaps.

"There's no need to get upset, Kuro-struck-"

"I can't help him if you don't shut up-"

"_I_ need help?" Kakei looks surprised by this, and Kurogane can feel his temper boiling.

_"Yes,"_ Fai hisses – loudly and completely conspicuously – at him.

"Oh, yes," Kakei quickly corrects himself, "I don't know how I'll manage them otherwise."

"Oh for…" Kurogane claps his hands against his face and drags them downward. His eyelids have moved so far down his cheeks that they might as well be nostrils by the time he manages to set his jaw and bark out orders for anyone _not_ involved in this ritual to get the hell out of the backroom before he fires one of his arrows of armour directly into their ass.

Kakei disappears just as quickly as he'd come. Fai, on the other hand…

"Do you really have those?"

"Have what?"

"Arrows of Armour."

"Of course I don't," Kurogane spits. He's not allowed any weapons – at all, ever – and Fai is more than averagely aware of this.

"That's too bad," Fai frowns, "I can see them being useful…"

"Is there a reason you're still here?"

"I'm here to help, Kuro-charming," Fai assures him. He settles down on the floor directly across from Kurogane and pats him on the knee, "So let's give it the old symposium try, shall we?"

"Tche," Kurogane scoffs, but gathers himself back together anyway. "Incense," he grumbles again, and to his everlasting joy, Fai actually obliges him and sets the pot smoking.

With the mood set somewhat more appropriately, Kurogane breathes deeply and drags his fingers across the earthen floor to center himself. He allows the pebbles to play through his fingers for a few moments until he is completely calm and then, with great reverence, speaks the words of an ancient and powerful love spell.

"Sparkle fairy, teddy bear,  
I'm pretty sure love's in the air.  
Now heed the yearning in your gut,  
And go and make some lovely smut."

The candles flicker as his words echo about the chamber, latching on to the barest of breezes and hopefully flowing out toward their intended recipients. He rakes his fingers across the floor again, scattering pebbles and eventually collecting enough to douse the candles. He opens his eyes slowly in the darkened room and leans back.

"That's it?" Fai is choking back laughter before he's even had a moment to run through his mental checklist and make sure he's completed everything properly.

"What do you mean 'That's it?'" Kurogane growls, "Do you have any idea how long that took to learn?"

"Of course, of course!" Fai stifles a snort behind his palm, "It's hard to rhyme a word like smut." He scrambles to his knees and kind of half-crawls, half-scoots across the room to the curtained off door. "Let's see if it worked," he says giddily and peeks his face through the part in the fabric.

He pulls it back just as quickly and slaps the curtain halves back together.

"What?" Kurogane demands. He's quick to his feet, but Fai is quicker to block his path. "Get out of my way."

"Well, they're definitely going to be harder to pry apart now-"

"What the hell happened this time?" Kurogane storms past him and throws the curtain wide.

The shop boys roll past him in an enraged flurry or fists and feet and hair-pulling.

"Shit."

"They're kind of cute this way."

"Tche." Kurogane grimaces – bearing his teeth in a completely non-maniacal way – and stomps out the door.

Fai slinks to the doorway after him and peeks his face through just in time to see Kurogane land a blow on each of the shop boy's heads. He bites back more laughter – his lip is going to be a bloody mess if this keeps up – as the boys cease their brawling mid-swing and slide completely indelicately into a slightly less violent but no less unseemly activity. One that requires fewer blows to the face and more blows to the –

"If they take down the front displays, I'm not going to be held responsible," Kakei says, shuffling around a rattling table of amphorae. He frowns and pulls one of the jars from the table, sips delicately from the mouth, and then douses the writhing duo with the contents. "You'll thank me for that later, trust me," he singsongs as he winds his way to where Fai is peeking through the curtains. He pulls these to the side and offers the amphora, which Fai gratefully accepts. "He's got that part down to a science, at least."

"He's managed to keep the population steady for the past hundred years," Fai nods. It's increasingly hard to drink without spilling, as the shop boys contort themselves into increasingly ludicrous positions, and his own laughter is threatening to choke him, but he _is_ the god of wine and that would be a sacrilege. Still, when Saiga crawls out from under one of the tittering displays, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and looking a bit pale, it's all he can do not to drop the flask.

"Festival isn't supposed to start until sundown," Saiga grumbles and pushes past Fai to take up residence on s tool into the far corner of the room. He nestles into the juncture of the walls and propping his feet on the windowsill, yawning, "Unless we're doing peep shows now too."

"That might not be a bad idea," Fai says thoughtfully, "Hey Kuro-smut-"

"Oh, shut up," Kurogane growls. He smashes a fist against one of the display shelves and sends the contents shattering across the floor. _Perfect_, he thinks, and storms out the front door to the street.

* * *

_One of the lesser known casualties of the Dragan War was, oddly enough, the God of War himself. Humans don't like to acknowledge the God of War (even though he is the god that most closely resembles them in many ways), and so the void has mostly gone unnoticed in many parts of the world. Peace is taken for granted, and will likely continue to be until a new god rises to fill the position._

_The previous God of War had been what many would describe as "A Nasty Piece of Work." Born from the sweat of Clow's brow, he had originally been designed a minor God of Agriculture, and sent to live among the good folk in the northern fields to learn his trade. He had been happy in this role and toiled relentlessly in the fields with the human guardians who raised him until, as so often happened in those days, their land was seized and destroyed by men of other gods and all the people lost to the conflict._

_Perhaps it was inevitable that he – the sole survivor of the carnage – would rise again as a God of War and destroyer of peace._

_He had fought under banner of Dragos – not because they honored him in any way, or even particularly wanted him there (and certainly not because he maintained a delicately crafted sense of irony), but because those above had made it clear that he could either prove he was more than a mindless brute and a burden to all living things, or he could turn in his immortality at the front desk and try not to let the pillars hit him in the ass as he bounced back down Mount Edonis. And so he had decided to take up the banner of peace, neutrality, and kindness to those in need in order to smash the ever-loving hell out of the Togakushiite armies._

_In the end, it wasn't his lust for blood that became his undoing, but his lust for wine._

* * *

Syaoran sets the last amphora of wine on the docks and wipes the sweat from his brow. Even with Yamazaki's help – which has been noticeably lacking for the past half hour or so – it's taken him much long than usual to unload the cart. He'd like to blame this on the heat, but it probably has more to do with the fact that Kurogane is not here to lift the majority of them and shout at Syaoran to move faster with the rest of it…

"Thanks, kid," the city councilman in charge of the annual sacrifice says, eyeing up the stash he's left on the dock. He's dressed in the same kind of bold colors and bright jewelry as the rest of the higher-ups carting their self-importance around the festival, but seems far too young for this role. Syaoran bites his lip to keep from sneering as he leans in to inspect the offering. It's fairly obvious that he has no idea what he's looking for, but smiles as if this is the finest delivery of wine he's ever seen (in fairness, it probably is, and Syaoran is well aware of this). "Send our thanks to your father."

"Of course," Syaoran bows politely. He turns back to the cart, now nearly empty, and wonders where in the world Yamazaki has gotten off to. They have three delivers yet to make before they can really partake of the festival, and he's anxious to get them squared away-

"It's true though! If you break an egg open on a donkey's head and leave it in the sun for three hours, you'll not only get a perfectly cooked breakfast, but you'll delouse the donkey!"

Syaoran catches sight of Yamazak just as the councilman corners him. He's talking the ear off of a trio of girls – two of which, if Syaoran is not mistaken, are the same two they nearly killed this morning. _Fantastic._ They're never going to get to the wrestling match at this rate…

"Is this kid bothering you?" the councilman asks. Syaoran secures the last of the jars to the cart and heads toward the group.

"Not at all!" Yamazaki insists, "I'm just sharing some down-home cooking tips! Everyone can use them – even if they have to borrow a donkey!"

"Brother, it's fine," the overly-helpful girl says (great, he's her _brother_), "He's just teasing."

"He's an idiot."

"Hey, that's not very fair-"

"Yamazaki," Syaoran says, finally catching up to them. He steps inbetween Yamazaki and the councilman, grinning like an idiot in hopes of diffusing the tension and praying loudly in his mind to the god of mistaken identities that he is not recognized. "No one here needs down-home cooking tips. They all have servants."

"Oh, Syaoran don't be silly-"

"Oh, it's you!"

Syaoran winces and resolves to stop praying altogether. He drags Yamazaki away from the girls and waves hurriedly over his shoulder. "So sorry again!" They're _going_ to that damned wrestling match-

He freezes in his steps as a slight hand grips his shoulder.


	3. Chapter 3

_The _actual_ ending of the Dragan War has been all but stripped from the collective memory of humanity. The events are too fantastic, too unexplainable to fit neatly into any history books, and so they are quietly ignored._

_As the Togakushiites sacked Dragos, the death toll grew ever larger._

_This was just as Fei Wong had planned._

_In the moments after the death of Prince Subaru and the sucides of the Togakushi princess and her lover, the ground trembled as though it would split wide, spilling out the contents of the earth itself. The buildings shook with its rage, swaying and tumbling with no regard to the stoutness of their foundations or the strength of their walls. The sky grew black and the ground below the citadel's tower, where the two young lovers had fallen burst open. Instead of the contents of the earth, however, what spilled forth was viscous and black, half-formed and screaming. The souls of the dead._

_Riding at their head was Fei Wong, Ruler of the Underworld, God of the Dead, and Free God. With only the barest interference on his part, the death toll from the ten year's war had outpaced the availability of space in the underworld, and with the addition of these final two deaths, the walls had shattered, thrusting the millions of souls resting therein back to the light some hadn't seen for thousands of years._

_It would take years and the construction of a new underworld to repair the damage._

_Fei Wong was, naturally – or we wouldn't be here to tell you about it – subdued and punished. While it is impossible to kill a god, and therefore impossible to ever truly be rid of them, it is possible to cripple them quite severely. In the case of Fei Wong, his head was separated from his body and cursed that it might turn whoever looked upon it to stone, so that he might never again be able to conspire to disrupt the balance of things._

_His body was returned to the underworld. The location of his head remains unknown._

* * *

Kurogane attempts to blend into the crowd that's starting to form on the street, but it's a difficult feat to accomplish when one towers a good 20 centimeters over even the tallest workmen. He tries to counter this by slinking in and around the shopping stalls and food carts that are just pulling their windows open, but Fai still manages to corner him before he's made it even three blocks from the shop.

"Kuro-lust-"

"Get the hell out of my way," Kurogane grunts and attempts to sidestep him. He's not sure why he even bothers with this anymore, since Fai is irritating enough to keep pace with him and slippery enough to already be two steps ahead. "What do you want?"

"I want you to come back to the shop," Fai pleads. He slips an arm around Kurogane's waist and tugs, putting on his best pout as he uses this as a sling to wind around until they're face to face. "It's hardly the end of the world, you know. And besides, I'm going to need help cleaning up-" He falls flat on his ass in the road as Kurogane plucks his arm away and tosses it to the side. "Kuro-beau-"

"It's not a joke," Kurogane growls, "I need to go train."

Fai wraps himself around one of Kurogane's legs and squeezes tightly. "Don't go train today, Kuro-charming," he begs, "It's the spring festival. Come drink with us and forget about it. You've got the important part of the job down anyway – what does it really matter if they can't love?"

"It just-" Kurogane huffs out a long sigh. Fai has decided his belt and tunic as some sort of climbing apparatus, and it's more distracting that one might expect to have a sinewy god slither up his torso while he's trying his best to be very angry. "It matters," he says finally, decisively.

"If this is a pride thing-"

"Of course it's a pride thing," Kurogane snaps, "Why should it not be?"

"It's not that it shouldn't be," Fai says. He takes a moment to straighten out Kurogane's tunic where he's pulled and mussed and made a mess. "But if that's the case, then you really ought to start by examining your strengths."

"Hah?"

"Your strengths, Kuro-beau," Fai says again, "Like, for instance-"

"I know, I know," Kurogane pushes him away before he brings up the shop boys again.

"Yes, but there's also the family thing too."

"Family?"

"Yes!" Fai insists, "Just a few years back, they were still awful – leaving their infants out to die if they showed even the smallest bit of weakness."

"They're not still doing that?"

"No, they stopped about twenty years back-"

"Idiots."

"_Kuro-brutal_," Fai whines, "The point is, they stopped that right about the time we took Syaoran in."

Kurogane stares blankly back at him. "And you're saying it's because I … what?"

Fai rolls his eyes and clasps his hands around Kurogane's. "You are the worst god of love to have ever lamented the title, have I told you that?"

Kurogane ignores him. "If that's true, then maybe what I need to do is-"

"Yes, yes, of course," Fai agrees and pulls him back toward the shop, "Write it down. But right now if you don't come back and get horribly shit faced with me, I am going to be very upset."

"Hold on," Kurogane stops dead in his tracks, leaving Fai pulling ineffectually at his arm and treading in place on the dusty road. "If what I feel affects what I can do then-"

"Kuro-_passionate,_" Fai whines. He's really leaning into his grip on Kurogane's arm now, and still not gaining any traction, "Just don't worry about it anymore today, alright?"

"Let's go," Kurogane says, and suddenly Fai is the one being dragged through the street. He tightens his grip on Kurogane's arm and kicks his legs against the gravel to keep up.

"But you've never been in love-"

Kurogane isn't paying attention. It's a talent he has worked hard to cultivate over the past one hundred years, and while he is not always successful, it helps to be lost in his own thoughts. "It always starts with that stupid stomach flutter."

"What?"

"And then the idiot doe-eyes."

"Are you getting this from bad romance scrolls?"

"Shut up and help me make a list," Kurogane insists. They've reached the shop again, where they now have to push their way through the small crowd that's gathered outside the windows. Fai shouts something about getting a better view for only six pieces of silver, but Kurogane is having none of it and drags him away before he manages to collect a single coin. There's far more important work to be done here today.

* * *

"You're the boy from this morning, aren't you?"

"Um, yes," Syaoran says, feeling an icy chill crawl up his spine. There is something decidedly different about this girl from when they met this morning, and he can't quite put his finger on it. Maybe it's the way her hair has settled around its fastenings, so that it catches the sun's light as it blows just that little bit more in the breeze. Or maybe she's added some shimmering make up around her eyes – they really do seem to be much more dazzling from this vantage at any rate. Or maybe it's just that she's smiling now instead of frowning. He kind of hopes she keeps smiling like that forever.

His stomach dances a little jig inside his abdomen.

Which is odd, because he really shouldn't be hungry yet.

"I'm Sakura," the girl says, "I am, ummm…"

"Are you ok?" Syaoran asks worriedly. Sakura's face has managed to progress from a relatively normal shade to bright red within a matter of seconds, which is usually a sign of heatstroke. "Can I get you some wine? I've got a whole cart."

"I, um, sure-"

"Here, come on!" He clumsily grabs her hand and races toward the cart, pointedly ignoring her councilman brother's complaints.

* * *

"Alright," Kurogane rips a page from Kakei's ledger amid much protestation from its owner and much eye rolling from Fai, who is still pouting over Kurogane's outright refusal to have a drink until he's finished. "So far I've got the stomach flutters, the doe eyes, the blushing and gaping – what comes next?"

"Don't look at me," Kakei holds his hands up innocently, "It's been over a hundred years – I can't remember that far back."

"That's the wine," Saiga grins and drops an arm around Kakei's shoulder, "Next comes jabbering on like an idiot."

"It _could_ be the wine," Kakei says, fanning himself, "I am awful warm. Are you getting warm? Just me? Maybe I should go start collecting a fee from those gawkers up front – they've been getting a free show for almost half an hour now."

Saiga waggles his eyebrows at Kurogane. "But really that's just to mask the urge to touch each other."

"Oh yes…" Kakei says slowly and runs a finger up along the fold of Saiga's tunic, "I remember this…"

"Wait," Kurogane stops his quill scratching across the parchment to balk back at the two of them, who are staring at one another like they've each just met the most fascinating creature in the whole of existence and fidgeting playfully with bits of the other's clothing and anatomy that are usually reserved for late night trysts in the fields. "You two?"

"Mmm," Kakei affirms, "It's been quite a while, though."

"Kuro-breathless," Fai says hurriedly, "Don't you think this is probably all a little bit too sudden? They're not going to have any idea how to deal-"

"It's fine," Kurogane says, "It's working, isn't it?"

"It doesn't look that much different from lust, really…" Fai trails off.

"But it feels…" Kakei trails off, "Different, somehow."

"Alright," Kurogane dips his quill in the most un-euphemistic way possible and sets back about his parchment, "What's next?

"Inability to think about anything else."

"Irrational thought patterns."

"Acting like a complete idiot with no regard for yourself or others."

Kurogane snorts at the last addition, "That's just the wine talking."

* * *

"Here, try this one – it's diluted three to one with water, so it shouldn't make you any sicker." Syaoran makes sure to grab the most ornate amphora he can find with this dilution to pass off to Sakura. Truth be told, he isn't feeling so hot himself – his face feel hot and swollen, as if most of his blood supply has rerouted itself to fill up his cheeks, and his stomach seems unable to decide whether it is full or empty or hot or cold. Worse, even though he feels feverish, his palms are sweating and so is his back, so it's even less clear what might be going on. He grabs one of the more potent jars and takes a swig.

"Thank you," Sakura says. She pours herself a small cupful (Syaoran kicks himself for not thinking to do this – he must look like an uncouth farmboy idiot _idiot IDIOT_) and takes a sip. "It's good," she says quietly. The flush isn't leaving her cheeks, though, and Syaoran isn't sure what to make of it.

"You're still bright red," he says, and before he realizes what he's doing, he's pressed the flat of his palm against her cheek and is running the pad of his thumb up over her brow ridge to check for…

That thing…

With the…

And the…

Fever.

_Yes. Fever._

"You're warm," he mumbles. Suddenly his tongue is fat, too. Every part of his body seems intent on betraying him.

"So are you," she says, and turns her face further into the palm of his hand. For a moment she looks like she might run away, but then, slowly, she reaches out to mirror his touch. Her fingers feel like fire against his cheek (which is amazing because his cheeks themselves feel hot enough to burst into flame at any moment). He swallows thickly and takes a step forward-

* * *

"Clow above, this is painful to watch." Fai sighs and stomps irritably to the front of the store to drop a blanket over the two shop boys, who are now both snoring heavily under one of the display tables. He stomps back just as snippily and gracelessly and forces himself in between Kakei and Saiga, who have progressed to whispering sweet nothings and rubbing noses in a way that seems to imply something far filthier than simply bumping faces. He fills a glass for each of them and presses it into their hands. "Everyone just needs to have a nice drink and calm down."

"What is wrong with you?" Kurogane demands. He pauses his scribbling to stare at Fai in confusion. "I thought this was what you wanted? You hauled me all the way over here to get those shop boys going and now that I finally figured out what I need to do, you're getting all stupid?"

"I'm not getting stupid!" Fai insists, "I just…" his eyes dart from side to side and a sneer pulls at his lip. "I can't do this," he finally says. "I'm going home."

"What the hell?" Kurogane barks. He's angry, and irrationally so – this sort of flippancy and fickleness is par for the course with Fai, and he knows this full well. They've been business partners for the past hundred years and raised a son together – he knows all the ins and out of Fai's flightiness, and they've bickered more than enough over the years for none of this to be surprising. Still, he feels like he's just been kicked in the chest. One hundred years of trying and failing at being the God of Love and the bastard can't even act a little impressed when he finally manages to make some headway? Were all those attempts across the years to "help him out" really just set ups to mock him, like earlier today? That cuts deeper than he wants to admit. And he won't admit it. "Fine, whatever," he growls instead.

"I'll see you at home."

"I thought you wanted to celebrate in town?"

"I'll see you at home."

Fai clutches at his chest and hurries out of the store without another word. Kurogane slams his fist down onto the desk. He's suddenly got a massive headache in addition to feeling like he's been kicked in the chest. This list of…whatever the hell it was he thought he was doing is only half finished, though, and the longing looks plastered across the faces of the couple still here staring uncomfortably at him are enough to make him acutely aware that he's started something huge that needs to be followed through on.

But what the hell is he supposed to do now? His head is a swimming with anger and confusion and a million other things that he hasn't felt in who knows how long. He slams the reed pen back on the desk, then thinks better of this and snaps the damned thing in half.

This would all be so much easier if he _could_ just shoot arrows at people.

* * *

"Sakura, I-" He inches closer, hand trembling against her face with each movement.

"Syaoran…" She bites down on her lip in a way that does absolutely nothing to dissuade him from moving closer still.

"Oi!"

They both ignore the angry shouting. Syaoran can't even tell where it's coming from at this point – the entirety of the docks seems to be nothing more than a blur around them. It doesn't matter anyway. There are only the two of them here, in this moment. They are the only two people in the world-

_"Get the hell off my sister, you little creep!"_

This illusion is broken - suddenly and violently - by the reappearance of Sakura's brother and his fists, which do an excellent job of shattering both Syaoran's confidence and his nose. Syaoran regains his bearings quickly – or at least quickly enough to avoid tumbling into the water – and wipes the back of his hand across his lip. It comes away covered in blood.

"Touya!" Sakura shouts, "It was my fault – don't hurt him!"

Syaoran isn't about to get hurt, though (well, he's not about to get hurt more than he already is), and pulls himself into combat stance. He may not have had much experience with outright brawling, but he's learned a thing or two about fighting from Kurogane over the years and he can pull it all together if he needs to-

"Syaoran, no!"

There's something about the way her hands fly to her face in worry as she shouts this that not only tugs at Syaoran's heart strings, but ties them into several thousand knots. His fists might as well be bolted to his sides. He can't hurt her brother, much as he might want to, which leaves him in a bit of a bind. Despite his sister's pleas, it's clear to everyone on the dock (and quite a few people watching from the shore) that Touya has no intention of allowing Syaoran to walk away unscathed. And so he does the manliest thing he can think of under the circumstances: he runs.

He runs far and runs fast, and doesn't stop when he reaches the end of the dock. From one boat to the next, it's only a short jump, and he flies over the gaps with ease. Yamazaki shouts his support from the pier and tosses a few choice gestures in Touya's direction, which are returned to him with gusto. Touya is hot on Syaoran's trail, but not gaining – his bigger frame prevents him from launching himself from boat to boat, but his climbing and scrambling skills are proving second to none. At this rate, Syaoran might be able to escape unscathed, but he's as good as forfeiting the cart and the rest of the deliveries if he does, in which case Kurogane will kill him anyway.

He's far less afraid of Touya than he is of Kurogane. He doubles back toward where Sakura is still watching the two of them with a horrified look on her face. This gives Touya an advantage, but it's a chance he's going to have to take. He's only meters away now from the cart – the only obstacle left between him and freedom is the barge piled high with food and wine to be floated out and sank as the annual sacrifice to the gods. Touya reaches it first and scrambles to the top of the pile triumphantly. Syaoran slinks to the outer edge of the barge, tiptoeing his way slowly but surefootedly toward the docks.

He's nearly reached his goal when Touya throws caution to the wind and leaps down from the mountain of sacrificial goods. He dodges left to avoid him, but loses his footing and crashes down onto the deck of the barge and sends a small alter that's been set up to welcome citizens' offerings – complete with lighted candles – flying.

For the second time today, Syaoran resolves to stop praying as no one answers his pleas for the candles to miss the barge entirely and land in the water. Instead, they fly directly into the pile of dried herbs and grain at the base of the pile, where they quickly ignite everything around it.

Escaping Touya is no longer the prime directive. Syaoran runs – stupidly, but it's been a day of not thinking clearly – straight for the flames and spends several long moments attempting to stamp them out, to little avail. To his great and everlasting shock, Touya appears to put their quarrel aside for the moment and joins him in his frenzy of stomping and shouting, also to little avail. The fire spreads to the greater pile in no time.

"The wine on the docks!" Touya shouts and grabs Syaoran by the tunic.

"What?"

"Throw it on the fire!"

Touya is practically dragging him toward the docks. Syaoran clambers to get his feet righted beneath him before he falls headlong off the barge. Touya is right – most of the wine has been diluted to a pleasing drink strength, so if they can reach it in time-

An explosion rocks the barge behind them as a barrel of oil cured olives catches fire. Touya redoubles his grip on Syaoran's tunic, lifts him bodily from the barge, and tosses him on to the dock.

"Touya!" Sakura shrieks. She's managed to lift one of the bigger amphorae from the dock and hefts it toward the barge with all of her might, hoping to buy her brother a little time to get himself back to the pier. It smashes around his feet and douses the flames, giving him just the time he needs to leap to safety.

He lands on top of Syaoran and sends them both barreling into the stash of wine.

The shattering of ceramic jars is deafening, the smell of wine over-powering. Dark red seeps into his clothes and drips from his hair, but Syaoran is too thankful that it's wine and not blood to care. The barge is completely engulfed in flame and all they can do now is stare in horror.

And laugh, apparently, because there is nothing like a near death experience to make everything else in life suddenly seem hilarious. Touya is seemingly of the same mind, and together the two of them howl at the flames like they've just been told an exceptionally funny joke.

"What is wrong with you two?" Sakura cries, holding her face in her hands. She's shaking with fear and anger and barely contained contempt for the masses of people who fled from the docks at the sight of the fire. "How are we going to put this out?" There's only the three of them left now, and maybe four jars of wine left unbroken that they might toss on the flames.

"It's on the water," Touya says, swallowing his laughter down, "It'll put itself out."

"But it's the sacrifice!" she shouts, balling her hands into fists, "What will happen to us?"

"Sakura," Touya starts, "That's just a-" His eyes go wide as his voice dies in his throat.

"Just a what?" she demands. Her head snaps around to follow his gaze when she receives no answer. Syaoran follows suit as well.

Dark clouds are gathering rapidly just beyond the shore.

* * *

Kurogane stares at his pathetic little outline of love's progression and snarls. It has always been this way, for him at least. The first few steps are easy, but once the feeling is established…what then? He'd resolved to become strong, so that he wouldn't be crushed under the feeling himself, but-

Clearly that was proving to be as much of a hindrance as a help, even after one hundred years.

He'll figure it out in the morning, he decides. For now, he can see visible evidence of his success in Kakei and Saiga and several couples in the street (though that might be the wine…that is always the problem with love). That will have to be good enough. He grunts his goodbyes to the shop keepers and heads for the street, where he is stopped dead in his tracks.

Far off in the distance, a storm is brewing, the likes of which he has not seen for almost a century.

* * *

_A funny thing about Gods and Sacrifices that most humans refuse to acknowledge is that it's never really clear where all that stuff _goes_. Sure, it's sunk to the bottom of the ocean or burnt to the heavens, but what good is it doing there? And how can one be sure it's going to whom it's intended?_

* * *

The being that emerges from the storm clouds is nothing at all like Syaoran is expecting. Where he is prepared for huge and dark and malevolent, the figure that appears before him is slender and light and strikingly beautiful. His malevolence is still immediately apparent to everyone within hearing distance the instant he opens his mouth.

"I am Yue, messenger of Mount Edonis. Which among you dares to mock the gods?" he demands.

The festival crowd gathered on the shore attempts to flee, rather than answer, tripping over itself and moving in great, surging waves of bodies. Screams ricochet from the surrounding buildings and out over the open water.

The god is unimpressed, and poses his question again. When he still receives no answer, he draws a great wave of wall from the ocean and sends it slamming onto the shore, scattering the people that remain and dragging the unlucky out to sea. Syaoran manages to maintain a hold on the dock, but Sakura's fingers slip from his grip as the water moves over them.

"Sakura!" he tries to shout, but his screams are drown out by the waves. Yue narrows his eyes and opens his mouth to speak a third time.

"Stop!"

Syaoran's heart leaps into his throat at the sound of Sakura's voice. She's meters away from him, cast out into the open water and barely managing to keep her head afloat. Still, she screams loudly again to catch this Yue's attention.

"Stop this! It was an accident!"

Yue rounds on her, snapping his wings to their full span. "Accident or not, child, the Largos lurking just beyond your shores must be appeased."

"Largos?" Sakura asks, then shakes her head heartily, "If you have to blame someone, then blame me! It's my fault they were fighting, and therefore my fault that the sacrifice was destroyed!"

"Sakura, no!" Syaoran shouts. He can't believe what he's hearing – why would she take the blame for-

"Are you saying that these men hold you in higher regard than their duty to the gods?"

"I am saying that I will take responsibility," she says again.

"If it is true, then I will deem you a suitable substitute," he says.

"Substitute?" Syaoran and Touya shout in unison.

"Yes," Yue continues, "Because you have not provided him with sustenance, the Largos will appear on your shores in three days' time. When he appears, your pitiful city will be ravaged until he is provided with a sacrifice befitting his majesty. Since you are apparently more dear to these mortals than anything else, I shall deem you a worthy substitute."

"No!" Syaoran shouts, just as Sakura nods in agreement.

"Are you upset by this, little man?" Yue demands, turning his full attention back on Syaoran.

"Yes, of course," Syaoran stammers, "I mean – surely there must be another way! Something else we could offer!"

"Child, you could offer up the head of Fei Wong himself and it would not appease the Largos unless I deem it worthy."

"I'll do it!" he shouts before he realizes what he's saying.

"Do what?"

"Offer up the head of Fei Wong!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Fei Wong's head was hidden so that it can never be found." Yue turns his attention back to Sakura, "Prepare yourself, child. You have three days-"

"I will find it!" Syaoran shouts again, "I'll find it and bring it back here and I will turn the Largos to stone with it if it will not be appeased!"

Yue turns a suspicious eye back on him. "I don't have all day to argue with you. Fine. _If_ you can find Fei Wong's head and _if_ you can manage to bring it back here without turning yourself into a garden fountain I will consider it an acceptable sacrifice. If you should fail, however, the Largos will have the girl, and you will find yourself roasting on the hottest fire in the underworld. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes."

"Wonderful," Yue drolls, "I'll prepare the kindling." His wings snap wide again as he ascends back to the storm clouds. "Seven days!" he shouts, as if any of them needed a reminder.

Syaoran stares him in the eyes as he disappears once again.

He will find that head, or lose his own trying.


	4. Chapter 4

_In beginning any tale with the "interesting bits," there is inevitably some regrettable loss of detail and characterization. For instance, one thing is not immediately apparent about the character of Syaoran is his rather remarkable ancestry. The God of Wine and God of Love did not just happen upon a child in need of a home one day, nor would they have been especially disposed to take one in out of the kindness of their hearts (a harsh truth, but considering the mindset of the God of Love at that time, not an especially surprising one). No, Syaoran's story involves much more goading and arm-twisting on the part of a higher ranking deity._

_At the time of his birth, there were many rumors flying around the small kingdom he hailed from that any issue of the king would grow to kill his father and marry his mother. Where or why these had started is still a matter of some contention, but most can agree that it was a lot of superstitious nonsense stemming from the fact that the king really did not like children. Moreover, while Syaoran's mother might have been the Queen, his father was certainly not the king (though it is unlikely his fate would have been much different, had this been known)._

_Ruling over the gods without a partner is lonely work. And Yuuko did not suffer loneliness gladly._

_And so it was that Syaoran was born the son of two Queens. Between the two of them, he was spared a bloody end and given a new start in the home of two gods who, over time, grew to love him as their own._

_(Which isn't a bad start for a demigod, considering how badly things went for poor Perseus.)_

* * *

There are certain privileges that come with being family, and chief among these is the right to curse their name loudly when they do not return home from the capital on time like they promised and plot creative ways to punish them when they _do_ bother to turn up. Kurogane has made good use (some might say "abuse") of both of these privileges in the past twelve hours, and while the thought of making the kid scrub the wine presses clean with only a chisel and paintbrush (or better, the latrines with only his bare hands) is appealing, any sort of pleasure he might have been deriving from these machinations is quickly banished to the shadowy parts of his brain by the rising sun.

As the sunlight creeps over the fields, it fails to reveal any teenagers struggling to make their way home before their fathers kill them (or any teenagers passed out with their loincloths on their head for that matter – which might have at least been funny once it was finished being infuriating). Kurogane's rage subsides to a sickening worry – or is at least tempered by it – as he stares out over the horizon. Unlike Fai, he hasn't be able to rest, secure in the knowledge that boys will be boys and boys will piss off their fathers. He's too well aware that boys tend to be idiots and idiots tend to be killed or run off the road or arrested and held in solitary confinement while their parents waste away with worry and-

Fuck it – he's going toOuto.

The kid has their only horses, but there are other ways for a god to travel, and bringing Syaoran home safely outweighs any sort of risk of outing himself as an immortal. It'll be more efficient if there are two of them to search, however, so it's back into the house for now to wake Fai and fill him full of enough wine to produce a moderately functional god. He casts a long final glance over the fields and turns back to the door.

"It's five in the morning, do you know where the son of Yuuko is?"

Kurogane freezes with his hand on the door latch. He hasn't heard anyone approach, nor should anyone around here know about-

"Yue."

He steps back from the door to where he can get a better view of the winged messenger god's likeness at its side. The statue itself has seen better days – it's been here as long as they have, which is to say nearly a century – but the face has suddenly taken on new definition, and somehow manages to look even more judgmental than usual. Kurogane sighs as it cranes its neck up for a better view at him.

"Well, do you?"

"No," Kurogane growls, "I don't. I don't suppose you're here to tell me?"

"No," Yue lifts an eyebrow peevishly, "I am here to summon you to Mount Edonis for an audience with Her Efficaciousness, Yuuko the Great and Mighty. Keeping track of that brat was your responsibility."

Kurogane curses loud enough to scare away the larks gathering to search out their breakfast. Nothing good has ever come of meeting with that witch of a goddess and, considering the circumstance, he has little reason to believe that this time should be any different. He fixes his grip on the door handle. "Let me just wake him."

"See that you do it quickly," Yue taps his foot impatiently, "I haven't got all day and this marble is terrible quality."

Kurogane slams the door shut behind him. This has all taken a turn for the worse very quickly.

* * *

_It should be noted, as it was not in the last bit of narration, that Yuuko is fiercely protective of her children and unforgiving of those who would do them harm._

_She is also, however, fiercely proud of them, and not about to let a good opportunity for them to show off and carve their names upon the tablets of history go to waste._

* * *

At this time of morning, the sunlight spilling into the halls of Mount Edonis is almost blinding. Situated high about the cloud line, there is little obstruction for the morning sun, and the high-pillared arches invite its rays in to be scattered across the polished marble floors. It's an effect intended to dazzle and disarm audiences to the high gods, but at the moment it's only managing to give Kurogane a massive headache.

Fai shades his eyes from the glare. For all Kurogane might be suffering from the light, _he_ is suffering the after-effects of a night spent at the bottom of a barrel. There had been no time to stop off at the store house – he'd simply been shaken awake and a pitcher of water dumped over his face to ensure the job was done. Kurogane had shouted something about messages and suddenly they have found themselves swept off their feet and dumped at the foot of the mountain.

The climb to the top had been enough to sap them both of the will to argue, which was probably the point.

"Wait here," their winged escort says shortly, "Her Bombasticness will arrive shortly."

The chamber they've been lead to is as ornate as it is large, with fantastic sculptures intruding into what might have been barren spaces and rich fabrics draped to catch and cut the light into shadows. There's a decided lack of furniture, but that's to be expected – no one sits to greet the queen.

And speaking of the queen-

"It's been quite a while, boys," she says, waltzing in with the air of one who own not only this room, but the whole of creation. "Hopefully this meeting will be more pleasant than our last?"

"You tell us," Kurogane grumbles, "You're the one who summoned us here."

"Now, see, this is a very poor start already." Yuuko circles the two of them with an appraising look and reaches out to lift Kurogane's chin with her index finger. He averts his eyes from her stare. "I've been back on this mountain for less than a day, you know. I haven't even had time to sit down to a decent meal or indulge a drink or six. And do you know why?" She tilts Kurogane's chin further back. "Hmmm?"

Kurogane twists his head to the side with a grimace. "I will find him. I swear it-"

"Oh, I know where he is," she says airily and skips over to Fai. "How are you darling?" she asks, laying a hand across his shoulder, "You look terrible."

"I've had better days," Fai says truthfully, "But, if you know where Syaoran is-"

"I thought it might be instructive for you to see as well. Let's review the events of yesterday afternoon, shall we?" she beckons the two of them to a large pool of water surrounded by a bed of colorful stones at the center of the room. She fills a cup and passes it off with a wink to Fai, who accepts it gratefully, before stirring the surface of the water with a fingertip. "Watch carefully."

The ripples in the water part, leaving a pristine surface that glows with a golden light. At the bottom of the pool, the events from the day before surge by at a rapid pace: a stolen kiss and burning barge, an unimpressed messenger of the gods, and a promise that strikes like a knife into Kurogane's heart to hear. The night comes and goes, and Syaoran appears again, this time bidding farewell to his friend and taking off on foot through the Great Forest of Rekort.

Kurogane stares in disbelief. He's already fighting back the urge to throttle Yue for taunting him when he knew full well where Syaoran had been, but now he's faced with explicit evidence that his son has disregarded every single thing he has ever taught him and is quite possibly an idiot on top of that. If he had any inkling the little brat was capable of this, he would have-

"Where is he heading?" Fai asks. It's the obvious question, but one that Kurogane is not certain he wants the answer to. "There's nothing in Rekort Forest apart from dark magic and evil spirits."

"Isn't there?" Yuuko lifts an eyebrow, "I think you might be surprised." She plucks a well-worn stone from the bed around the pool and casts it in. The picture in the basin is thrown into disarray as ripples chatter across the water's surface; when it clears once again, the scenery has changed to a thatched hut in the middle of a dark wood. It looks abandoned apart from the smoke pouring from its chimney, but not at all like the sort of sinister dwellings one usually found in Rekort.

"What is it?" Kurogane demands, "Some hag's hut?"

"In a way," Yuuko smiles, "Though they would probably not appreciate being called such." She flicks her finger across the water's surface and the camera changes again to show endless rows upon rows of shelves in a darkened chamber. "This is the Library of Rekort," she explains, "One of our better kept secrets, I must say. It has held all of our knowledge and our secrets since the dawn of time."

"How does he know to go there then?" Kurogane asks.

"He doesn't," Yuuko answers, "Right now he has taken the advice of a local oracle and is heading into the forest in hopes of stumbling across an old seer who lives just beyond the border of the woods."

"Will he find them?"

"I don't know that she's still alive, to be honest," Yuuko frowns, "I haven't heard from her in years. A shame – she always had the best wine…"

"Then why-"

"Because," Yuuko says forcefully, "It may have escaped your notice for the past nineteen years, Kurogane, but Syaoran is a demigod and my son on top of that. Whether or not he finds the seer is irrelevant. Once he is deep enough into that forest, he'll be pulled toward the Library."

"Is there something dangerous in the library?" Fai asks. He leans in toward the pool to get a better look. The room is too dark to make out specifics, but it's clear enough that it not only books that line those shelves.

"Oh, rest assured that every dangerous thing in creation has a home in that library," Yuuko grins, "And several less dangerous, but still unpleasant things as well." She dips her finger into the pool again, and this time brings up the image of a face neither of them have seen in one hundred years. Both men turn their heads immediately to the side, lest they be turned to stone immediately. "Don't worry," Yuuko laughs, "It's perfectly safe to look at in reflection. Oh, Fei Wong my dear, the years have not been good to you." She flicks a few drops of water onto the reflections eyes. "Not that you ever were much to look at."

"The head is there?" Fai asks, finally understanding, "So he'll succeed?"

Kurogane feels an enormous weight lift from his chest. Curse her for toying with them this way! "You could have just said so from the beginning!" he growls.

"It's _possible_ that he'll succeed, Kurogane," Yuuko agrees, "Provided he survives the trials of the library's keepers. But please don't mistake this for a good turn of events."

"What?"

"I'm not in the habit of doing things for no reason," she continues, "Everything here has a cause and effect, just as young Syaoran discovered yesterday when he destroyed the tribute to the Largos. Now, without food, it will sack the shore until it is sated and take that girl as recompense."

"Unless Syaoran succeeds," Fai says, "In which case…something bad will happen."

"Correct," Yuuko snaps her fingers, "At least one of you is bright enough to keep up."

"Hey-"

"Here's the problem," she splashes the water again to bring up the image of a great black sea monster, flanked by countless tentacles and in possession of a single blue eye in the center of its body. "The Largos is more than a monster that needs to be appeased. It is the Destroyer – one of the ancient titans who maintains the balance of all things on this earth."

Fai wrinkles his nose. "That thing?"

"Oh shush, he's adorable," Yuuko insists. Once Fai has relaxed his sneer, she continues, "But he will be affected by the head of Fei Wong just the same as you or I would. Should he be turned to stone, well…" She snaps her fingers and suddenly Kurogane and Fai find themselves standing knee-deep in compost. She snaps again and the heap tops itself off with a layer of tree branches. Again and broken shards of ceramics fall into place.

"I get it," Kurogane growls before she gets around to dropping dead animal carcasses on them, "Without the Destroyer, nothing that is spent will disappear. It will just keep building up and building up without anywhere to go."

"At least until we manage to create a cosmic garage of some sort," Yuuko nods.

Kurogane rolls his eyes. "What do you want us to do?" he asks, "Your little henchman was the one who put this idea in his head!"

"And Yue is very sorry," Yuuko pouts, "He's already apologized and everything." She heads to a table at the side of the chamber and rifles around its cluttered surface. She eventually locates a scroll, which she carries gingerly back to the pool. "What I need from you is very simple," she holds out the scroll toward Kurogane, who stares warily for a long moment before accepting it, "I need you to find the Creator."

"What the hell is the Creator?"

"The _other_ of the ancient titans that maintains the balance of all things on earth."

"You don't know where the Creator is?" Kurogane scoffs.

"I lost track of her!" Yuuko waves this away.

"You are awful with your pets."

"Oh, don't mistake them for pets, Kurogane," she laughs, "Chances are, they think of you as _their_ pet." She claps her hands together, "Now the last place I saw her was in the underworld, so you'll need to-"

"Hold on," Kurogane cuts her off, "Why do we have to do it? Why don't you just send your pretty boy messenger?"

"Oh no, they don't get along," Yuuko says seriously, "That would be a disaster. No, Kurogane, I am sending you to do this firstly," she holds up one finger, "Because your duties as they boy's guardian have not yet come to an end. Secondly," she adds another, "Because I have just spent six months in the underworld and I am in no fit condition to do it myself. And finally," she waggles all of her fingers in front of Kurogane's face, "Because this is all your fault, O Great God of Love."

_"What?"_

"While I certainly appreciate that it's taken you the better part of a century to relax enough, your unfocused experimentation yesterday created a shockwave of infatuation between anyone unlucky enough to be standing too close to another."

Kurogane's mouth drops open.

"Not that it hasn't been entertaining, mind you," Yuuko laughs, "It's been awhile since I've seen a threesome that included both a priest _and_ a used chariot salesman. That was one for the record books…" She straightens her face. "The point is, were he not head over heels for that girl, the sacrifice would not have been lost and all of this might have been avoided."

"Head over heels? But he doesn't know her!"

"Oh, that hardly matters. Especially not for a teenager," Yuuko rounds on him, "You've not been the greatest god of love, Kurogane, but you've at least been consistent until now. I would suggest you learn how to control your power, now that you seem to be on the verge of figuring out how to actually wield it. And you'd do well to figure out what comes after infatuation if you don't want a giant mess on your hands."

"I-"

"I know you will," she cuts him off, "Fai?"

Fai, who is still staring into the viewing pool, startles at the sound of his name. "Sorry," he smiles wanly and scratches his head, "I got a little lost there."

"So I see," she frowns, "You'll have to trust Syaoran to do his part in this."

"Oh," Fai clears his throat, "Yes, certainly. And we'll do ours as well."

"Yes…" Yuuko's eyes narrow on him, "And when all is said and done, perhaps the two of you will return to Mount Edonis and share of some of our wine."

"Of course," Fai bows deeply.

"Right then," she claps her hands together and moves to escort them from the chamber, "Once you've found the Creator, bring her to Outo. She should be able to calm the Destroyer."

"Should be?" Kurogane stops in his tracks, "You mean _will_ be."

"Well I daresay that depends on you," Yuuko smiles and whacks him on the back. Kurogane protests, but starts moving again. "Good luck boys. If you follow Yue back down to the base of the Mountain, he will arrange for transportation to the underworld. Please remember to keep your arms and legs inside the cart at all times and if you experience turbulence on the way down, just remember that you'll be landing in the world of the dead shortly, and there is guaranteed to be something more frightening just around the corner! Oh!" she snaps her fingers loudly, "That scroll will get you in, but don't forget to ask Clow for the toll for the return ferry!" With that she gives them a hearty shove back into the hall and slams the door behind them.

"She gets worse every time," Kurogane mutters.

* * *

_The descent into the underworld is about as unpleasant as Yuuko describes, though do keep in mind that most of those making the journey are newly dead, and therefore their days aren't about to get much worse._

* * *

Where the halls of Mount Edonis had been stupefyingly bright, the entrance to the underworld is proving to be suffocatingly black. Surprisingly, this has much the same effect as the dazzling light, except instead of fearing wrath from above, one starts fearing wrath in the form of something oogey climbing up one's leg. There is no shortage of oogey things littering the shores of the River Infinity – that much is certain – and it's only gotten worse now that they've ferried to the far shore. The stink clawing at their noses grows more pungent with each step toward the great black gates.

Kurogane grabs Fai's arm, pulling them both a halt as they reach the gates. He can hear arguing coming from just beyond, but can't make out exactly what the words are, or who they're coming from. "Do you hear that?"

"Yeah," Fai nods and tiptoes closer to the gates, "I'd been told there was a guardian, but I wasn't expecting him to be so busy-"

"What kind of a guardian?" Kurogane asks. He creeps closer to the gate as well – the last he'd heard, one of Yuuko's god-forsaken pets was the only thing guarding the gate between the souls of the dead and the world of the living. While he supposes that it's possible she's taught her pets to speak (it sounded asinine enough to appeal to her), this sounds like an full on argument between at least three sentient participants, and it only seems to be getting more heated as they draw nearer.

"Kuro-fancy?" Fai mutters beside him.

"What?"

"I think…I think they're fighting over who's scored higher at table tennis."

"You're kidding."

"No, I'm quite serious." He skips the last of the way up to the gates and motions for Kurogane to follow suit. He cranes his ear toward the black bars. "It's definitely table tennis."

Kurogane sighs and plods over to where Fai is standing and cups a hand around his ear to listen. And sure as day, there it is.

"You bounced outside the line, so it doesn't count!"

"It does so – besides which, you hit the net on your last serve and I didn't say anything!"

"You didn't say anything because it didn't happen!"

"It happened! I'm standing right by the net!"

"You're not even playing – shut up!"

"It doesn't matter if I'm playing, I still hold the high score. AHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"You do not!"

"I do! I scored 400,000 on that last round! AHAHAHAHAHA!"

"The game only goes to 11 you idiot!"

"I'm not an idiot, you're an idiot!"

"Well you're ugly!"

"Your mother's ugly!"

"Don't talk about our mother like that!"

"Um, excuse me," Fai calls out tentatively. Immediately, the arguing ceases and they find themselves standing in the shadow of a gigantic, snarling, three-headed…cat-bear? With floofy white wings.

"Who goes there?" all three heads demand in unison.

Kurogane claps a hand over his eyes and groans. "What the hell is this?"

"We are Keroberos! Guardian of the gate of the underworld. State your business!"

"Give him the scroll, Kuro-beau." Fai nudges him forward.

"Right." Kurogane holds out the scroll Yuuko gave him earlier. "We're looking for Clow. Yuuko sent us down here."

The leftmost head eyes him up. "Are you dead?"

"What?" Kurogane sputters, "Do I look dead?"

"You smell dead," the middle head answers.

"I don't think that's him," the rightmost head says, "I think it's you."

"You don't know what you think."

"Well I know what he _thinks_ he thinks."

"I don't care what you think he thinks he thinks-"

"Besides, if I stink, you stink-"

"OI!" Kurogane shouts.

Three heads round back on him. _"State your business!"_

"We need," Kurogane says, attempting to speak through gritted teeth, "To see Clow. We have passage papers from Yuuko."

"But are you dead?" the leftmost head demands again.

"We're immortal," Kurogane seethes.

"This is Kurogane, God of Love, Lust, and Beauty," Fai supplies, "And I am Fai, God of Wine and Ecstasy."

"Why does the God of Beauty stink?"

"I told you it's not him."

"Can we stay on point?" Fai begs, "Please?"

"Of course," the middle head says, "We've heard your case. And we refuse you entry."

"What?" Kurogane snaps, "What do you mean, you refuse us entry?"

"Did you stutter?"

"I didn't hear him stutter."

"No, I don't think I stuttered."

"He didn't stutter," all three heads sound in unison and cock incredulously to the side.

Kurogane pinches the bridge of his nose. "Why," he growls, "Are you denying us entry?"

"Because," the middle head answers, "Only the dead may enter here."

"Are you deaf?" Kurogane barks, "We're both gods. Sent by Yuuko herself. What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Faionysus the Twice Born cannot enter here."

"What? Why?"

"Because he neither fully dead nor fully god."

Kurogane looks dubiously at Fai. He's certainly immortal enough to have driven him insane for nearly a century now – surely he would have noticed a little thing like that?

Fai frowns, "I suppose that is true, in a way."

Kurogane balks.

"But," Fai continues, "That was nearly 7000 years ago. On my twenty-fifth birthday I was taken into the pantheon as the god of wine. Since then I've been as full a god as anyone."

"This is stupid," Kurogane decides. He stomps up to the gate and kicks at its locks. "Worry about him all you want, but I've been keeping his immortal ass in line for longer than you've been standing guard here. So I'll make you a deal." He smacks the flat of his boot against the support bar of the gate and draws out a long, tortured whine, "You can either open the gate, or I can tear it down."

Sudden understanding flashes onto the faces of the three headed beast.

"That's why he stinks like death – he was the god of war."

"The god of violence."

"He'll kill us all."

"That won't take much, we only have one heart."

"Don't tell him that."

"Yes, keep that quiet."

"And open the gate."

"Yes, open the gate."

"Certainly."

"It's about damned time," Kurogane smirks triumphantly as the locks fall away from the gate and one door creaks slowly inwards.

"Well done, Kuro-charming," Fai breathes and heads for the entrance.

Kurogane grips his arm and pulls him back in line with himself. "Don't get too far ahead of me," he growls, "Just in case."

"I'll be fine, Kuro-crushing-my-arm," Fai shirks away and smiles breezily. "Let's go find this Creator, shall we?"

"Yeah…" Kurogane eyes the path sprawling before them with a growing uneasiness. He doesn't like this – not one bit. Keroberos steps to the side to let them pass. From the looks on its faces, it's obvious it doesn't like this one bit either.

* * *

_It is a little known fact that Keroberos can be easily tamed by feeding it its favorite food, which happens to be vanilla pudding. It's too bad for our heroes in this case that pudding will not be invented for another three thousand years._


	5. Chapter 5

_Gods are notorious liars, as are Queens._

* * *

The Forest of Rekort is much more difficult to navigate than Syaoran had imagined and is therefore much slower going than he has the patience to accept. He has yet to find any sign of this seer woman who is supposed to live just beyond the border of the forest, despite mucking about in the fallen trees and gullies for the past five hours.

It should be coming up on noon, or so he assumes by the rumbling in his belly. The sun appears to be in the right position as well, but he's wary of relying too heavily on its position to tell time in a forest supposedly full black magic. He settles down on a fallen log and rifles through his leather satchel for some food. Sakura had been kind enough to send him off with several loaves of bread and some dried meat and fruits, which he gratefully unpacks and sorts into piles on his lap. He has no idea how many days he'll be wandering alone in these woods, even after he finds the seer, but he'll ration for seven. After that, there will be no point-

He chooses a loaf of bread and a handful of dried figs and shoves the rest back into his bag. There's no sense in despairing just yet, not on the first day of his journey.

He swallows the bread down with a long gulp of water from his carrying skin. The forest is far too quiet for his liking, with only the occasional rustling of leaves – the chittering of birds and small animals is completely absent. He'd prefer the loud roar of something particularly dangerous to this. There's nothing to be done about it though, and with no wildlife about to watch as he eats, he decides to entertain himself by tossing the figs into his mouth.

When the first one fails to land, he curses his bad aim and vows not to waste any more food.

When the second fails to land, he snaps to attention and looks around nervously.

He'd watched this one closely as it had arced up and over his head, then dipped back down-

And disappeared shortly before hitting his mouth.

Perhaps the forest wasn't as empty as he'd thought.

He takes the third fig carefully in hand and, with a quick glance around himself and a deep breath, tosses it in the air. He follows the arc again, first as it flies up, then turns and-

He snaps his hand out to catch the fig in mid-air, before it has the chance to disappear like the others, but to his everlasting surprise comes away with a handful of fuzzy bunny.

At least, it looks like a fuzzy bunny, as he sends it flying back into the air. He's not sure if bunnies scream, but this one is definitely doing just that. So is he, in fact, and he's not sure which of them is being louder about it.

The possible-bunny-thing lands on his lap and proceeds to chirp indignantly at him and rub its head. From this angle, he can see that it's not _quite _a rabbit – it seems to walk on two feet and has a large pink jewel set into its forehead – but he can't imagine what an animal like this is called. He reaches out to touch it-

"Don't eat Mokona!"

"Eat you?" Syaoran squeaks out, less upset by the notion of a talking rabbit than the accusation, "Why would I?"

"Because Mokona is cute and sweet like sugar!"

"But I'm-" Syaoran is at a complete loss. What do you say to a creature who thinks it's delicious? "I just ate," he settles on after a long pause.

"Oh." It looks almost…disappointed by this.

"But, I'm sure you're very sweet…?" Syaoran says hopefully.

"The sweetest!" It holds a hand – paw? – out to him. "The name is Mokona!"

"Um," Syaoran stammers, and reaches out to shake the paw between his thumb and forefinger, "Hello, Mokona. I'm…Syaoran."

"Ooh, that's a strong name!"

"Thanks?"

"You're welcome! What are you doing in my woods?"

"Your woods? I didn't know-"

"That's ok! As long as you're not here to burn them down, Mokona doesn't mind!"

"Right…" Syaoran shifts around uncomfortably on the log. "Well, I'm actually looking for someone. Supposedly there is an old lady that lives around the edge of the forest here. I need to find her to ask her where I can find…" he cuts himself off before he says too much. He has a sneaking suspicion that the head of Fei Wong would not be a welcome addition to Mokona's Forest.

"Hmm," Mokona says thoughtfully, "Don't know anything about that. But I know of a house deeper in the woods!"

"Do you know the woods well?"

"Mokona knows the woods the best!" She – he's decided from the voice – jumps from his lap and motions for him to follow. "Come on! I'll show you."

"Wait!" Syaoran yells after her. He's wary of forest creatures – especially talking ones – after years of nightmare inducing bed-time stories of trickster spirits who lead unsuspecting travelers into the woods and stole pieces of their bodies. They have been mere children's stories, but in the past two days, he's come face to face with the messenger of the gods and a talking rabbit, so he's not interested in taking chances.

"What's wrong?" Mokona asks, bouncing back to him.

"Well, I don't want to stray too far-"

"You don't trust Mokona?" She looks crestfallen at this and kicks her little feet into the fallen leaves.

"I only just met you."

"Syaoran is looking for something very important. But Mokona is too! So if Syaoran promises to help Mokona, the Mokona will help Syaoran! What do you think?"

"I don't know," Syaoran says, "What is it you're looking for?"

"It's a secret~!" she chirps, then seems to think better of this. "Tell you what," she says, "I will give you a kiss."

"That's really alright, Mokona, you don't need to-"

"MUWAH!" Her…lips? smack against his forehead. Mokona herself comes to land on his should his shoulder and nuzzle against his cheek. "How do you feel?"

"I feel…" Syaoran stares at his hand, which seems to be glowing faintly. The shimmer fades away momentarily and he snaps his attention back to Mokona. All of the aches in his muscles from yesterday's work and today's parading around the forest are gone, right down to the soles of his feet. "I feel great – what did you do?"

"Nothing much!" she chirps, "Just a quick restorative spell!"

"That's amazing."

"Mokona is the most amazing!" she says happily, "So follow me!"

"But-"

"Oh right!" she says, "You'll need a way to get back if we get separated." She taps her paw against her jaw thoughtfully. "How about…" She jumps to the top of his head. "Hold your bag open in front of you."

"Huh?"

"Just do it!" she insists. She taps her foot impatiently as Syaoran hauls the satchel off his shoulder and unstrings the opening. He holds it open in front of him and rolls his eyes as far back as they will go to see what she's up to on top of his head. He snaps them shut again as a torrent of brightly colored…_things_ pours down over his face and into the bag.

He opens them again – slowly, blinkingly – once the downpour has stopped to look at what she's given him. "Things" is about the best descriptor he can come up with – some are wooden, some are brightly colored material that he's never seen before. One looks like a paint brush with the bristles sticking out to one side of the handle, another looks like a brown brick with an angry face drawn on it, and still another appears to be a wedge of silver that won't stop shaking. "What…" he picks up a piece to inspect it more closely, "What are they?"

"Dunno," Mokona says, "Most of them haven't been invented yet."

"But how-"

"Just use them to leave a trail!" she insists and jumps down from his shoulder, "Come on, now! Mokona will show you around the woods!"

"Wait!" But she's already bounding away from him. He tosses the silver wedge onto the forest floor and takes off after her.

* * *

Despite the prevalence of so many less-than-flattering portrayals of Clow, Kurogane has always found him to be a much more tolerable god than his counterpart. There is always less ridiculous pomp involved in meeting with him – he is the sort of god who welcomes you to his fold and treats you with the sort of dignity befitting another immortal, rather than luring you in, slithering around you and speaking in riddles.

Of course, in this instance at least, that just meant there were fewer words involved in telling them they'd been sent on a wild goose chase.

"The Creator?" Clow taps at his chin thoughtfully, "No, I haven't seen her in years. I don't believe she's been in the underworld for quite a while either – not since the rebuild. She did an excellent job of repairing Fei Wong's damage – the space is now ever-expanding down here and the walls are elastic enough to handle temporary upticks in the population-"

"Sorry," Fai says incredulously, "It's not _here?_" He looks crestfallen, and Kurogane understands this feeling far too well. There is a sinking feeling in his gut that now their job has become that much harder-

"No, I apologize," Clow says, "She's not. Yuuko ought to know better than that – she's been lamenting the loss of her best drinking buddy for years now…"

"She knew?" The sinking feeling slowly morphs into an icy rage, "Why the hell would she send us down here and waste our time when so much is at stake?"

"Perhaps you have other business in the underworld?" Clow offers, "Yuuko is not one to send people down here lightly."

"Tche," Kurogane scoffs. He's sure now that she wanted to share the pain of her six month confinement down here with someone else, and they happened to be the easiest target.

"At any rate," Clow continues, "The only way to find the creator is to go back to the beginning. This is surely the ending, so it's not likely you'll find her down here."

Kurogane balks. "What is that supposed to even mean?"

"I'm not sure," Clow laughs and smooths his hair back, "It's something Yuuko said to me once, although she had been drinking quite heavily at the time…"

Kurogane takes back every flattering thought he's had about Clow in the past hour. Perhaps it's the influence of the underworld, but he's become just as flighty as Yuuko and less shrewd at cloaking it with fancy sounding riddles. _Go back to the beginning._ The beginning of what?

"Perhaps what you need is to return to your own beginnings," Clow suggests, and Kurogane resists the urge to punch him, "The underworld is no place to lurk unnecessarily."

"You mean return home?" Fai asks.

"That too," Clow smiles.

Returning home is at least something Kurogane can agree with, even if he's not going to dignify as much with more than a scoff and turning on his heel in response. He stalks back toward the entrance to Clows chambers, fully expecting to hear Fai's footsteps following closely behind. He stops when he hears nothing.

Fai is standing exactly where Kurogane has just left him, facing Clow and fidgeting with his fingers. He isn't saying anything though, which is both awkward for the moment and odd behavior for Fai.

"Was there something you wanted to ask?" Clow prods.

"I-" Fai begins to say, and then apparently thinks better of it. He closes his mouth and turns his head quickly to the side. "No," he says at last, "Nothing at all. Sorry." He turns and walks quickly from the chamber, leaving Kurogane to stare at his back.

"What the hell was that about?" Kurogane demands once he has caught up. Fai continues plodding ahead, saying nothing. "Oi!" he grips Fai's arm and pulls him back.

Fai smiles and laughs. "You've got a real thing for my arm today, Kuro-crush." He jerks his shoulder back and rubs at the flesh gingerly. "That _hurts,_ you know."

"You've been acting stranger than normal since yesterday," Kurogane snarls, "And I don't like it. You can either tell me what's going on-"

"Nothing is going on, Kuro-lust," Fai assures him in the least convincing manner possible, "There are more important things to take care of right now, anyway. I think I know where we need to go."

Kurogane glares at him suspiciously.

Fai ignore this. "Yuuko mentioned earlier that the Forest of Rekort has housed the collections of the gods since the beginning of time," he says. When Kurogane fails to react, he continues, "Which means it must have been around since the beginning of time."

"The beginning," Kurogane says, finally understanding.

"Exactly," Fai says, "So let's hurry and leave here." His eyes dart nervously around him, "I think it's starting to get to me."

"I'll say," Kurogane grunts in agreement, "Let's go." He can certainly see why Yuuko and Clow have chosen to split their tenure of this place into half-years stints. The dead are not quiet, and the howling alone would be enough to drive a mortal man insane. When the cold, damp, and unpleasant smell of rotting flesh are factored in, it's enough to make even him uncomfortable.

They trudge back through dark, cavernous halls, marveling at how much longer the return journey seems. It's only the disappointment, Kurogane insists, that makes it seem so. They're no longer distracted by the promise of fulfilling their goal, but instead left to stew on the bitter reality that they've been sent on a fruitless mission. It's only natural that this should seem more arduous.

Kurogane is contemplating the exact nature of their failure when the shrieking ghost of a puppy darts between his feet and nearly sends him tumbling ass over teakettle.

* * *

It's growing dark within the Forest of Rekort, and Syaoran is growing less and less confident of his new-found companion's navigational abilities. It seems to him that they've been doing naught but walking in circles for the past five hours , but he still has yet to cross back over any of the…_things _he's left as a trail behind him. He isn't sure whether to be glad of this or troubled by it, so instead he refocuses his energies on moving forward.

"It's not far now," Mokona says, a refrain she's been repeating for the past hour at least.

"I hope not," Syaoran says. It's all well and good for her to say such things, riding as she is on his shoulder, but his legs are aching and his heart is heavy with anxiety. Nearly a day has passed and he has made no progress whatsoever.

"There!" she points suddenly off to his left, and he slows his steps for follow her direction. Sure enough, off in the distance there is a pitiful thatched hut with smoke billowing out from its chimney. Throwing caution to the wind, he races toward it.

He's met at the door by a young man seemingly no older than himself. Despite this, the man walks with a strange gate and groans with every step he takes. It isn't until Syaoran is mere centimeters away that he realizes this is because the man has no eyes and is attempting to carry a heavy bucket of water from the well.

"Here, let me take that for you," Syaoran offers.

"Thank you," the man says, "I was wondering when you were going to say something. Been listening to you two chatter for ages."

"I'm sorry," Syaoran says truthfully, "I only just saw you here."

"Well, I didn't see you there at all!"

"Who has the eye today?" Mokona asks, as if this is a completely reasonable question.

"Oh god, it's you," the man groans and strikes out toward Syaoran's shoulder. Mokona bounds up to land on his head. "Here to drink all my wine and eat all my snacks again? I'm not your slave!"

"Not Mokona's slave," she agrees, "Mokona's pet!" With that she leaps from Syaoran's head to land on the shoulders of the blind man.

"I'm not your pet either!" the man grumbles. He beckons them to the door. "I suppose you'd better come in. Since you'll just sneak in when I'm not looking anyway."

He shuffles through the door, holding it open for them behind him. Syaoran steps in to find a much bigger homestead waiting for him than the outside of the hut would have suggested was possible. He stares in awe for a long moment, nearly forgetting that he is a guest here, until the blind man coughs at him and he remembers to carry in the water bucket.

"Watanuki is that you?" a woman's voice calls from a different room. The owner appears shortly through an archway – a tall woman with long black pigtails, holding a ladle with a blackened end. Like Watanuki, she has no eyes in her head. "I'm so glad!" she exclaims, "I think I've ruined dinner!"

"Oh, Himarwari!" Watanuki's voice suddenly changes from struggling and put-upon to sparkling with energy, "Don't you worry about a thing! I'll take care of it – just as soon as that bastard gets back here with my eye!"

"Whose eye?"

Syaoran jumps as a third person enters the room – this time a tall man with close cropped hair. One of his eye sockets is blank, just like the other two, but strikingly, one large, brown eye fills the other. He carries a cord of firewood to the edge of the fireplace where he drops it with a withering glare.

"I seem to recall it being my eye."

"I don't remember that at all," Watanuki says – shouts, practically – and stomps over to where the other man stands. "Now hand it over so I can make dinner, Doumeki."

Doumeki sighs and slaps himself on the back of the head. The eye pops free of his skull and lands neatly in his hand. "Don't drop it in again," he says warningly. He shakes his head to adjust to the lack of light and turns toward Syaoran. "Who's the visitor?"

"It's that Mokona again," Watanuki sneers, "I'll go get it some wine…"

"Who's the other one, though?"

"I'm," Syaoran says, taking a step forward, "I'm Syaoran." He swallows audibly. This is the second strangest thing he has seen today.

"Syaoran, hmm?" Doumeki nods, "Well Syaoran, why don't you and Mokona come sit with us and tell us what brings you out this way."

Syaoran nods and follows him toward a small dining table where Himawari is busily readying place settings. He can only hope they'll believe what he has to say.

* * *

_Meeting one's predecessor in any job carries the possibility of being instructive, or infuriating. For gods, the experience is most often both. Despite the seemingly endless cycle of Love Gods over the years, it is not actually all that easy to move to a new position. It requires time, dedication, and above all, a direct order from the Great Gods._

_It does not, as is probably obvious by this point in the narrative, come with training._

_And so, while meeting one's predecessor, it is important to take note of both what they did well, and what they utterly cocked up. Unfortunately, getting the to reveal what exactly the cock-up was can be both time consuming and, well..._

Infuriating.

* * *

Finding a puppy in the underwold does not surprise Kurogane, though it might make him a little sad, if he were inclined to acknowledge such petty feelings. What _does_ surprise him, however, and in fact sends him flying into a rage, is the reason that it has decided to scurry between his feet and attempt to use him as a shield.

Hurrying closely behind it is the impetus for all of Kurogane's suffering and hardships of the past century: the former God of Love, Seishiro.

Seishiro cackles to himself, quite oblivious to the presence of anyone outside of himself and his own machinations, and dives between Kurogane's feet to retrieve the puppy. Kurogane stares at him as he crawls back to his feet, pets the dog once before holding it arm's length, winds his leg back for the kick and-

"What the hell are you doing?" Kurogane snatches the puppy back before Seishiro's foot can make contact with its behind. He's always been a sick bastard, but this is a bit much, even for him.

Seishiro's eyes refocus rapidly as it dawns on him that he is not alone. His line of sight shifts, jerkily, between Kurogane and Fai as he sizes them up. Then, with all the grace of a rodent in its death throes, he reaches out to drum his fingers anxiously across Kurogane's face. "It's you," he mumbles.

"That's my line," Kurogane grabs him around the wrist and twists his arm back. "What is this? You disappeared after Dragos. It's because of you that I've had to suffer the past hundred years as the god of love and why? So you can kick puppies around the afterlife?"

Seishiro laughs, long and low and with a cadence that can only be describe as unnerving. "Don't be silly my boy," he hisses, "You had to pick up that title because you are just like me – cold and violent unable to love. It's a curse, you know."

"What?" Kurogane twists his arm back farther, but all this produces is more laughter.

"I also heard you got drunk and slept through the final battle at Dragos. What a _fantastic_ God of War you must have been…"

Kurogane releases his grip abruptly and leaves Seishiro to slump over on himself, clucking his tongue and nursing his wounded wrist. He stomps overtop of him, purposely grazing his heel across the skin of his forehead and kicking up enough dust behind him leave the ex-god of love choking. "Let's go."

"It's supposed to be such a wonderful emotion, isn't it?" Seishiro calls from behind them, "Humans write plays about it, epic poetry. They'll spend their lives happily pining away, pretending that they're lost in a sea of bliss. But we know better, don't we?" He pauses, obviously waiting for some response that isn't forthcoming. "What happens when their love is not returned? When it can't be returned?" he giggles loudly to himself, "They lose all ability to function. Crying, wasting away, dying of broken hearts, starting wars. You'll do more damage as a god of love than you ever managed as a god of war!"

"That ought to have been right up your alley, then," Kurogane sneers over his shoulder.

"It was!" Seishiro agrees, "It was the most fun I ever had!" He pauses to laugh again and pull himself back to his feet. "The trick is," he says, suddenly very serious, "To never let yourself get involved. You have to stay above it!"

Fai is pulling at Kurogane's arm, urging him to drop the matter and hurry back to the surface world, but letting an argument drop has never been a strong point for Kurogane and letting this bastard have the last word feels antithetical to anything that is good and right in the world. He turns back to him, "What do you mean?"

"The minute you fall is the minute you're cursed," Seishiro smiles, "And you can spend eternity searching again for _your_ Subaru."

"You're a coward," Kurogane spits, finally understanding. The death of the prince of Dragos hadn't merely been the end of the war, it had also been the end of Seishiro's reign as the God of Love. He'd fallen in love with a human and had now doomed himself to an eternity of suffering, trying and failing to find the face of his love in the depths of the underworld. "A spineless coward who is too weak to accept his loss and move forward."

"That may be true," Seishiro smirks, "But what does that make you, then?"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Everyone knows your story. You lost the humans who raised you," Seishrio says, "And flew into such a rage that you were declared the God of War and set to work razing cities and destroying lives. And you were so good at it that Clow and Yuuko themselves feared you and threatened to revoke your immortality. Tell me – what is a god who buries his fear of loss under anger and rage _but_ a coward?"

"I'm not burying anything."

"Indeed," Seishiro collects himself and turns his back on Kurogane, "Which is why you have spent the last one hundred years suppressing love, rather than spreading it, isn't it?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh god, you don't even realize it." Seishiro adds a spring to his steps. "You're far beyond any help I can offer, God of Love." He waves casually over his shoulder, as if this has all been one grand lark for him. "Good luck with that," he pauses, "Now, if you don't mind, I'm still looking for my Subaru." He skips off down the trail into the darkness, humming a jaunty tune.

"He's fucking nuts," Kurogane hisses. He turns back to Fai, but finds himself decidedly alone in the darkness.

* * *

"So," Doumeki says slowly casting what would have been a furtive glance at Himarawi if he'd had any eyes to cast with, "Let me see if I understand you correctly. You've been sent into these woods to find a seer, who is supposed to help you find the resting place of Fei Wong's head, which you intend to take back to Outo and offer up as a sacrifice to the Largos."

"Yes, that's pretty much verbatim what I've told you," Syaoran leans into the table and buries his head in his hands. They've been over all of this three times and three times they have been able to repeat back to him exactly what he's told them. He unsure exactly where the failure in comprehension is, but it's becoming tiresome.

"There's no seer in these woods."

"So you've said," Syaoran groans.

"Doumeki, are you boring him to death with your twaddle?" Watanuki shouts from the kitchen. He emerges a moment later, carrying a large cauldron which he carries to the table. "What's the trouble now?" he asks, taking the bowl from Syaoran's setting to fill.

Syaoran opens his mouth to explain for a fourth time, but Doumeki answers for him. "He wants Fei Wong's head."

Watanuki nearly drops the bowl into Syaoran's lap. "You didn't tell him it's here, did you?"

Doumeki claps a hand across his face.

"It's here?" Syaoran says excitedly, "You have it?" He turns to Doumeki, "Why didn't you just say so? What do I need to do? What can I give you for it?"

"Nothing!" Watanuki shouts almost immediately, "There is nothing you can do or give us! That head is cursed!"

"But-"

"But nothing!" Watanuki shouts. He slams the kettle down on the table and moves to filling everyone's cups. "Stay here, eat, drink, but don't say another word about that head!"

"I-" Syaoran snaps his mouth shut and reaches for the glass. Mokona has laid a tiny paw on his shoulder and is shaking her head. She catches his eye and bounds up to rest on his shoulder.

"Don't worry, Mokona has an idea!"

Later on, after dinner has been eaten and much wine consumed, the three owners of the hut take to reclining around the table with warm mugs of tea.

"In the morning," Himarwai says, "Watanuki will make you breakfast before you head back on your way, Syaoran. He makes the most amazing pancakes – you'll love them."

"I'm not getting up that early!" Watanuki shrieks, "It's bad enough I had to cook dinner again when it's this jerk Doumeki's turn!"

"Not my turn," Doumeki drones.

"That's too bad," Himawari frowns, "I was really looking forward to them-"

"Well that's alright then!" Watanuki says happily, "I'll set out the dough tonight so they'll be extra fluffy!"

"Thank you, Watanuki!"

"But for now then, we'd probably have a restful night, don't you think? What's a nice, restful way we can entertain our guest?"

"We could play spoons," Doumeki says, and Syaoran swears that if he had eyes, they would have lit up right at that moment.

"I said _restful!_" Watanuki shouts, "With you it always turns into full-contact spoons and I'm not having that tonight!"

"It was just a suggestion-"

"Well you can keep your suggestions,"

"Like you're keeping my eye?"

"It's _MY_ eye! You-"

"Hey!" Himawari says, just as things are about to get physical, "How about we play riddles!"

"Riddles!" Watanuki claps his hands together and squeals with delight, "What a fantastic idea, Himawari!"

"Thanks!" she smiles brightly, "Who wants to go first?"

"Oh, I will!" Watanuki says, flapping his arm above his head, "Here goes. Why is Doumeki always so tired?"

"Um," Himawari bites her tongue for a long moment, "Because he doesn't sleep well?"

"Because it's exhausting being this beautiful," Doumeki insists.

"Shut up, you!" Watanuki swats at him, "No. It's because he does nothing all day, so he can't stop to rest!" He practically falls out of his chair laughing at his own joke.

"Lame," Doumeki says shortly.

"Let's hear you do better!"

"Fine," Doumeki says, and settles his cup on the table, "How many eyes does Watanuki have if you count the one in his head?"

Syaoran opens and closes his mouth, wondering what the catch is. Is it possible that Watanuki has more than one eye? Do they have a store of eyes hidden somewhere? He's almost afraid of the answer-

"None," Doumeki finally answers, "Calling it his doesn't make it his." He slaps his open hand palm up on the table, "Now gimme back my eye, I gotta go take a leak."

"Take it in the dark!" Watanuki snaps back at him, "You're not playing with us anymore anyway – that was horrible!"

"Mokona's turn!" Mokona suddenly decides. She jumps up from her perch on Syaoran's lap and onto the table.

"Oh goody," Watanuki drones, "Here we go. Will it top the one it had last time it was here? What was it? 'How many boards would the Mongols hoard if the Mongol Hordes got bored?'"

"You still haven't answered that one," Mokona says proudly.

"What the hell is a Mongol Horde?!" Watanuki shouts back at her.

"I guess you'll never know!" Mokona sticks her tongue out, "Anyway, I have a new riddle!"

"Alright, let's hear it…"

"What has eyes but cannot see?" Mokona says very mysteriously.

"Very funny," Watanuki groans, "Um, a potato?"

"A needle!" Himarwari says.

"A storm," Doumeki guesses.

"Nope," Mokona says, clasping her hands behind her back and grinning innocently. "It's you!" As fast as she's spoken, she's leapt from her spot on the table and landed on Watanuki's head. She gives him a good, solid _kick_-

And the eye pops free of his face and soars across the table.

"Quick Syaoran!" Mokona shouts, "Grab it!"

Syaoran doesn't waste any time – he snatches the eye from the air and squeezes it between his thumb and forefinger.

"Alright!" Mokona chirps, bounding back to his shoulder, "Now you'll take us to Fei Wong's head – or we'll crush your only eye!"

Syaoran nods steadily, though his heart is racing in his chest. If this doesn't work-

"Don't do it!" Watanuki cries. All three of them are suddenly very anxious, which Syaoran finds odd for people who had been doing so well with out it just minutes before. "It's the only one we have left," Watanuki explains, "We'll never be able to keep the catalogs without it?"

"Catalogs?" Syaoran asks. He tightens the grip on the eye. "What do you mean?"

"This is a library," Watanuki explains, "A collection of all the knowledge the gods have amassed since the dawn of time. It's too much for any one god to know, so to work here, you must give up your eyes and share with the rest of the staff. It's the only way we can hold each other accountable."

"That's…" Syaoran trails off. He wants to say 'disgusting,' but isn't at all sure that will go over well. "Unfortunate," he decides on at last, "But I will have that head, one way or another. So please, don't make me ruin your only eye."

"I-" Watanuki gapes helplessly at the others, who in turn gape helplessly back. "Fine," he says at last, "But I'm sending word directly to the Great Goddess Yuuko once you leave here-"

"That's fine," Syaoran says, "Just take me to it."

"It's back in the archives," Doumeki says, "I'll take you."

Syaoran murmurs his thanks and follows Doumeki back deeper into the hut. Beyond the living room, the "hut" opens into a cavernous void, filled with rows upon rows of shelving.

"How will I find it?" Syaoran asks, awed by the sheer size of the chamber.

"Row 32F, shelf C," Doumeki answers without missing a beat. Syaoran stares at him. "I'm the index," he says, matter-of-factly."

"I see," Syaoran says. He swallows thickly and wanders into the darkness to get a better look at the shelves. He finds Row 30A almost immediately-

"The letters designate the section of the row," Doumeki says, "Walk down 32A, each gap you come to will start a new letter."

"Thank you," Syaoran starts to say-

"And you'll want to keep your eyes closed," Doumeki interrupts him, "There are things in there that will turn you into much worse than a piece of stone should you catch a glimpse of them."

"But how will I find it?" Syaoran wonders.

"Maybe if I had my eye, I could do something for you."

Syaoran steeles himself. "No," he says, "I'll hold it until I'm done. I'll figure something out. Mokona, do you have any ideas? Something like a shield - I could use it to reflect what's on the shelves. Maybe it's not the same as looking directly at them."

"Hmm," Mokona taps at her face, "I think you're right! Maybe. Give me a second." She appears to be doing a little dance on his shoulder, bobbing and weaving and shaking side to side, but in a moment it becomes clear that this is not the case at all when she opens her mouth wide and sends a large, pink-cased mirror flying into Syaoran's free hand. Syaoran stares at it – he's never seen a mirror with so much clarity or such strange resin casing before. Not only that, but the casing appears to be in the shape of a cat's face-

"Where did this come from?" he asks, afraid he already knows the answer.

"I made it!" she announces happily.

"Is that true?" Syaoran asks Doumeki, who offers a shrug in return. "Alright," Syaoran murmurs. It's betting than the alternative, which is to do nothing. He steadies his nerves and heads into the stacks.

He can hear things fidgeting on the shelves around him. As he moves deeper into the stacks, the fidgeting becomes squaking and eventually moaning. As he approaches section E, he's certain he can hear something calling his name. Still he soldiers on, not looking at the contents of the shelves, except for what he can see in his mirror. As he approaches section F, he stops and stares in mute horror.

The entire section is stacked with disembodied heads.

Some of these are labeled – "Kotori," "Daisuke," "Dearest Aunt Tokiko," – but the majority are not, leaving only Syaoran to guess which, if any, belong to Fei Wong.

"Mokona," he says quietly, "Do you know which one it is?"

"Hmmm…" Mokona mumbles, her face still buried tightly into Syaoran's neck, "Fei Wong will be the ugliest one for sure!"

"How dare you!" a voice rings from the shelves.

It's all Syaoran can do to not drop the mirror and flee in terror. He holds himself together by remembering Sakura and then remembering that tiny little Mokona is cowering against him, probably terrified out of her wits-

"Yeah that's right," she shouts into the darkness, "I said you're ugly!"

"Shut your mouth, you rodent!"

"Shut yours, you ugly!" Mokona continues to shout, "You're the ugliest pet I ever had – that's why I hid you in the underworld!"

"Why you! If I had hands I'd wring your neck!"

"Can you see which one is talking, Syaoran?" she whispers. He nods. "Good, then stuff him in your bag and let's get out of here!"

This is quite possibly the best idea Mokona has had throughout their entire acquaintance, and Syaoran can't comply fast enough. He nabs the talking head by the hair and, with his eyes pinched tightly closed (just in case!) jams it into the bag and makes a mad dash for the exit. He tosses the eye to Doumeki, slowly down only to be sure he's caught it, and continues straight out the front door.

The head screams the entire way.


	6. Chapter 6

_This chapter begins with a short interruption to outline how very very dedicated the former God of War had been to his duties._

_The first nine years of the Dragan War were glorious. He'd ridden out to battle every morning with his swords gleaming and ridden back every night drenched in the blood of the invaders. Hour after hour he'd fought, raw power flowing through him, ripping into enemy flesh and battering their weapons to pulp. Battle cries rattled against his ear drums, screams pierced the very core of his soul._

_He'd taken to drinking the nights away – he didn't need sleep the way humans understood it and it was better than staring at the sky all night, itching for the sun to come back up. Wine was harder and harder to come by as the siege dragged on, but finding the ceremonial stashes wasn't hard for a god._

_It should have been harder for regular soldiers, however, and damned near impossible for ordinary citizens who had no reason to be near the citadel. So, it was a shock to find a skinny, unkempt little rat of a man poking his nose around the locked stores. It was near midnight, and there was a curfew in effect for the city. He debated whether to turn him over to local authorities or just beat the snot out of him himself for all of the two seconds it took the thief to levitate one of the amphorae down from the top stacks of the store._

_"What the hell?" He'd been so shocked by the sight of the floating clay pot that he'd completely forgotten that he was an intruder here as well. Not that it mattered – he was Kurogane, God of War, and blowing his cover among mortals wasn't exactly a death sentence._

_Not that this man, with his levitating wine and sudden hardened expression, appeared to be a mere mortal. The amphora whipped wildly side to side, sending long, lapping splatters of wine over its rim and into Kurogane's eyes. This man was smart, Kurogane realized – smart enough to make up for his lack of size with chemical warefare. He'd dropped into a crouch then, hoping to have his sworn drawn before the man could readjust his aim, gripped the handle of his blade and-_

_-and that was when the hiccups had started._

_And the swaying. There was an awful lot of that going on – so much so, in fact, that Kurogane began to wonder exactly how much of that little projectile wine stunt had been intentional._

_He began to wonder if the idiot even knew he was there._

_"What the hell are you doing?" he finally demanded after a long, painful minute of watching the man stagger around the store room, humming to himself and hiccupping with little to no rhythm._

_"Hmm?" The man spun on his heel to face Kurogane. The amphora smashed unceremoniously to the ground. Kurogane's palm smashed heartily against his forehead. "Shit," the man giggled and staggered back toward the shelves, "That was the good stuff too." He finally caught sight of Kurogane, eyes squinting and focusing as if he were trying to stare down some slippery beast well-hidden in the shadows. "Aww," he crooned and slipped his scraggly fingers into Kurogane's hair to ruffle it about his forehead, "Who's a naughty boy, hiding in the shadows?" That Kurogane was in fact crouching completely unhidden, directly under a window, in a steady stream of moonlight seemed to make no difference._

_Kurogane had shot up to full height at this and very nearly taken out a row of shelves in his anger. "Do you have any idea who you're taking to?" he bellowed._

_"Ooh," the idiot clapped his hands together, "Are we playing 'Who the fuck are you?' I love this game." He wrenched another jar off the shelves (with his hands this time, even if they seemed just as unsteady as his levitation skills) and giggled, "But first, you have to tell me who the fuck I am!"_

_"The hell…?" Kurogane was left wondering at an empty space where the man had stood only a second before._

_"No, that would be Fei Wong," raucous laughter taunted him from somewhere above, "I think you'll find I am much less…decrepit." There was a loud crash from across the room and Kurogane did not spare any time to dart toward it._

_Another empty corner._

_"You seem quite spry yourself," the voice continued, "For someone so huge and…chisled. Usually you think of these big marble statues as idealistic and unmovable but you. Say," the voice paused thoughtfully, "You wouldn't be a god, would you? Because I've heard rumours-"_

_"Shut up!" Kurogane swung his sword and brought a rack of shelves crashing down. He'd lost count of the number of times he'd been subjected to this same tired pick-up routine. It had never been particularly new so he couldn't even call it old and tired. It was just bloody awful, and he was in no mood to put up with it. "Get back here and fight me," he demanded instead, "These are sacred wine stores you're pilfering. Better to fight me now than defile yourself and face the wrath of the gods."_

_"Now that might be interesting," the man appeared before him again, far enough down a shelf row to avoid danger. He dipped a finger into the jar and smacked his lips around it, "Oh yes, this is the best."_

_"Are you an idiot?" Kurogane balked._

_"Hmm?" the man's eyes darted back to him, "Oh, no. I just thought it was interesting to think what sorts of punishment I could dole out on myself."_

_"What?" Kurogane had missed something here, between the darting among the shadows and cackling; he was sure of it._

_"Oh dear, I suppose we haven't met," the man walked steadily – but slowly, as if he were perfectly aware he might pitch over at any moment – toward Kurogane and stretched out his hand in greeting, "Kuro-strife."_

_"What did you just call me?" Kurogane bellowed. No, hell to that – he wasn't giving him time to repeat himself. "My name is Kurogane, God of War and you will address me thusly."_

_"That's not what I heard," the man chuckled and took a swig from the amphora, "'Thusly,' he says. So formal. Calm down, Kuro-smash, we're not on Mount Edonis, there's no need to talk like you're sitting at court."_

_"Who the hell are you?"_

_"That's better. Still, I'm so disappointed," the man hung his head and dug his toe into the dirt floor, "Although I suppose I really can't blame him – they always make me look so beefy in those sculptures and I really haven't been to court in, well, centuries-"_

_"You're not making any sense," Kurogane spat, though that last rambling had lit a small flame of memory. "Wait," he said, "You're that twice-born idiot who spends all his time flitting around humans and pilfering their wine-"_

_"To be fair, it's _my _wine-"_

_"_Their _wine and-"_

_"At any rate, I hear you've been pretty near kicked off of Edonis anyway."_

_Kurogane froze midsentence. 'Did _She _send you here?"_

_"No," the man grinned coyly, "I came here all on my own. For the wine," he quickly explained, "It's really the best you can find. Clever bastards have figured out how to age it properly and it's – muwah!" He smacked his lips at the tips of his fingers. "Anyway, it would be a shame for it all to be destroyed without drinking some. It does have my name on it, after all." He lifted the jar to Kurogane for closer inspection, and sure as hell, there it was in large, scrawling letters:_

The Great Giver of Wine and Ecstacy, The Twice Born Lord Faionysis.

_"Tche." At least that explained the disappearing act. And here he had thought he was up against a formidable, albeit human, opponent…_

_"You can call me 'Fai,' though," 'Fai' laughed and offered the amphora closer still, "Go on, have a bit. You won't regret it!"_

_Kurogane eyed him warily, but accepted the wine. "You're sure she's not involved in this – in any way?" he asked before taking a sip._

_"Her Great and Awesomeness Yuuko might have requested a few jars for herself, but that was almost fifty years ago," Fai assured him, "I'm sure she's forgotten about it by now."_

_This didn't entirely reassure him, but Kurogane took a deep swig of the wine anyway. He'd come here to drink, after all, and if this is what he had to go through to get it, well…he could always slaughter extra Togakushiites tomorrow to make up for it._

_"There's a good God of Destruction," Fai smiled and clapped a hand against his back._

_"That's God of WAR to you, Wino."_

_"That's God of Wine to you, Kuro-decimate."_

_"No wine is worth this," Kurogane growled. He'd stomped toward the door then, fully intent on leaving without another word, but the idiot grabbed him around the wrist and promised something ridiculous – like not speaking for a full ten minutes or something equally as stupid – and Kurogane had changed his mind and chased after him, sword unsheathed-_

_The rest was a little hazy, but he remembered plenty of swearing and slashing and eventually drinking. They had drained six or seven of the amphorae by the time the sun rose and swallowed down another just for good measure before Kurogane stormed out onto the battlefield. He did indeed kill more than his average number of invaders, and decided that he'd been right all along – rage and anger were indeed the keys to strength, and strength was what would win this war. For neutrality and morals. And Her Mightiness the Great Queen Yuuko would, once again, be proven wrong and irritating._

_He found himself back at the wine stores that night, looking for a certain slippery drinking companion, and was not disappointed._

_The following months went by in a blurr of booze and blood – days to the slaughter, nights to the jars. One might have accused him of __enjoying himself, and one would not have been _wrong_ (but one would have been _dead_). Fai seemed amenable to this arrangement too, or at least amenable enough to hang around a city under siege as long as he was free to deplete the wine stores. Together they spent the nights pursuing such fascinating topics as "how do you go about being 'twice-born' anyway?" and "oh no, you did not just fucking eat my last fig."_

_And that was where it should have ended, so naturally it did not._

_Kurogane nearly shat himself when the idiot showed up on the battle field._

_He was fairly certain that you couldn't kill a god, but you sure as hell could injure them and he didn't have any desire to play nursemaid to a wine god with a spear through his head, nor did he have any desire to explain to that high and mighty Queen of his how this wasn't his fault and he shouldn't have to babysit idiots and win wars at the same time._

_Luckily – amazingly – Fai proved to be a multitalented god, and did more than hold his own on the battlefield. Perhaps it was his ability to throw the oncoming soldiers into fits of ecstasy before neatly removing their heads from their bodies, or maybe it was that he was cheating and no one could see him coming. Either way, he was a huge boon, and the Togakushiites numbers dwindled. The numbers of the dead surged – the halls of the underworld were surely swelling over capacity with their ranks._

_And then it all ended rather abruptly. They had delivered an undeniably brutal beating to the Togakushiites the day before, it was true, but…_

_Kurogane didn't like this sudden, clean end to the war. It felt wrong, unfinished. If he had it his way, he would line all the remaining soldiers up and take them out one by one-_

_Fai had informed him that this was probably a sign of psychosis and shut him up with wine and vague promises of maybe, _maybe_ letting him sample one of the fits of ecstasy he was so well known for. Kurogane had, in turn, informed him that he wasn't that cheap – psychosis or no – and then proceeded to spend the next two days soaked in wine with tingling toes and wondering if he'd ever be able to pull himself away to get back to business as usual._

_That question was answered – very messily – by the Hidden Penguin Warriors. In the end, pulling themselves away proved less difficult than he had imagined. Unfortunately, it had taken him ages to even register that anything – much less a huge, roiling battle – was going on around him. Considering most of the city was actively on fire, this was no small feat, and by the time he and Fai found themselves suited for battle once again, he was frothing with an indignant rage._

_An indignant rage that had, in the end, done no one any good._

* * *

There is no sign of Fai lurking around or behind any of the craggy outcroppings of rock in this area. He can't have gone far – Kurogane hasn't been lost in that argument for _that _long, but the twisting maze of tunnels and darkness is enough to lose even the loudest and most obtrusive of companions, it would seem. Kurogane curses to himself. He's not going back without that idiot, but he sure as hell isn't about to spend any more time skulking about in the dark by himself, either.

He turns and storms back to Clow's chambers. Maybe idiots can sniff out their own kind, even in the darkness of the underworld. He arrives without incident, which is just as well, because the scene he finds waiting for him there is going to require all that remains of his energy.

Fai, God of Wine, Ritual Madness, and Ecstasy, is sobbing like a baby at Clow's feet.

"It's true," Clow is saying, "You would disappear, even as an immortal, if you offer yourself to the Destroyer." His voice is calm and patient, much like a kindly father-figure, but his face remains grave as he speaks. "But you would not _die_. Your soul would not return to the underworld, and you would never meet with your brother or those you have known during their lifetimes again-"

"Brother?" Kurogane coughs, completely forgetting that he is an outsider to this scene, and probably an unwelcome one at that. Still, the sight of Fai – laughing, idiot Fai who can't take a damned thing seriously – sobbing on the floor twists a bitter knife in his gut.

"Kurogane," Clow greets him, "I think it's best that you take him out of here. The underworld has a way of playing with human minds-"

"I'm not _human_," Fai cries, "Everyone has reminded me for the past seven thousand years as I've watched everyone I've known and loved wither and die."

"Fai-"

"Fai was conceived as a human," Clow says, "Along with a twin brother. When their mother fell ill, I – young and foolish at the time, and desperately in love – attempted to intervene, and took one of the twins into myself. Fai was born twice – once of his mother, and again of my flesh. His brother-"

"Lived until he was twenty five," Fai interjects, "And when he died in battle, I tried to join him. But it was no use – no matter how many spears pierced through me, I would not die." He looks up from beneath the tangled mop of hair hiding his face and smiles a sickly smile. "Living without the burden of love for the past hundred years was like a dream come true." He closes his eyes and continues shakily, "Kurogane, I'm sorry. I've done nothing but sabotage you for the past hundred years. Every time you started to relax your grip on yourself and allow the tiniest amount of love to slip back into the world, I would find ways to humiliate you and drive it right back down. But then you took in Syaoran and I-"

"_We_ took in Syaoran, you idiot."

"No matter how hard I tried to kill the feeling, I loved him. I still love him. I want him to be happy, Kurogane. Against all my better judgment I… And you… Every time you get closer-" Fai balls his hands into fists and draws in a sharp breath, "Let me replace the girl as the sacrifice to the Destroyer. Let Syaoran live free of guilt. Let him love and be loved. Without me there to undermine you, you'll figure it out. I know you will – I've felt it- Yesterday I-"

"You really are a dumbass, you know that?" Kurogane slaps a hand across his face and rakes his nails down the skin. "And so am I." He storms to where Fai is still kneeing on the floor, and in one swift movement hefts him up and over his shoulder. "We're leaving." He nods to Clow – a silent thanks for refusing this idiot's entreaties and promise to return him safely home – and turns to go.

Fai refuses to go quietly. "Put me down," he kicks a knee into Kurogane's gut and beats his fists against his back. "Why are you refusing me the only opportunity to be useful that I've ever had?"

"Because," Kurogane says simply, "That bastard was right. For the past hundred years, I've been a coward."

"You're the God of War," Fai insists, "You're not afraid of anything."

"I'm the God of _Love_," Kurogane practically shouts, "And for the past hundred years, I have been afraid of you disappearing." He tightens his grip around Fai's waist, fully expecting him to roll and pitch and fling himself away from that revelation-

Instead, Fai's struggling grinds to a halt and he hangs, limp and silent and breathing unsteadily, as Kurogane continues to drag them both through the darkness.

Kurogane takes a deep breath before continuing. "After the village priest who cared for me and his wife were killed, I never wanted to say goodbye to someone I cared about again, and so I stopped myself from caring. I killed and I destroyed and I loved every minute of it. And then you showed up and managed to distract me from all of that. I missed the end of the fucking war because I was too busy fucking _you_. And I ignored it, like a fool. I convinced myself I was incapable of love and let you do whatever the hell you wanted – drinking all night, leaving me with all the heavy work on the vineyard. And I see now that it was all so I would never have to say goodbye." He stops walking altogether. The gate is visible up ahead and there is still more that he wants to say. "If you're going to disappear anyway, then it's time to take a different approach."

"Kuro-" Fai coughs, "It hurts."

"I'm sorry," Kurogane says. He drops to one knee and settles Fai on the ground so he can look him in the eye. "I know." It's hard to breathe if the knot forming in his chest and his stomach is doing all manner of impressive loops in his abdomen. Even now, he can't understand why this feeling is so revered above all others – "hurts" doesn't even begin to describe what he's feeling. But there is also excitement and longing and relief mixed in, and above all, a will to-

"Kurogane?"

His forehead crashes down against Fai's. He's laughing in spite of himself, like an idiot. "Don't call me that, idiot," he breathes out shakily, "You're going to make me say this, aren't you?"

"It might make it hurt less," Fai smiles lopsidedly.

"Fine," Kurogane grumbles, "I lo-"

"Oi!" a screaming roar in triplicate comes barreling at them. Kurogane glares over his shoulder to find Keroberos flailing with all of its three-headed, floofy-winged might. "You're about to miss the last ferry to the other side for the day! Hurry up or you're going to be stuck here for the night!"

"Tche," Kurogane scoffs. To hell with the words anyway – they've taken forever to say already, they can wait a bit longer. He settles for mashing his lips against Fai's; it's quick and violent and in no way conveys all the things he wants it to, but it's expedient and the hungriness with which Fai meets him tells him he's understood nonetheless. With a quick squeeze of his fingers, they're back on their feet and running for the gate.

They arrive just as the ferryman is pushing away from the shore and leap toward the boat. They fall fantastically short, even though he appeared to be no more than a meter from land, and the cold, black water of the River Infinity twists around their legs.

"What the hell is this?" Kurogane roars. Of all the things to go wrong-

"The toll!" Keroberos's middle head shouts, "You have to pay him the toll or he can't take you back!"

"What's the toll?" Kurogane shouts back. The water is reaching to his waist and Fai is sinking in even faster.

"Didn't Clow give it to you?"

"No!"

"I don't know what to tell you!" the leftmost head shouts, "But you'd better give him something!"

"Fine!" Kurogane roars and tears at the first thing he comes across, which just so happens to be his left arm. It comes off with a loud _POP_ and he hurls it, splurting and dripping, at the ferryman's head.

The next instant finds himself and Fai seated comfortably in the boat.

"What the hell did you do?" Fai shouts.

"It'll grow back."

"Maybe someday! What will you do until then? Oh my Clow on a cracker – you're bleeding everywhere!"

"It'll stop."

"Are you crazy?"

"Do you want to go back in the water?"

"..no."

"Then shut up."

* * *

_Some stories are not complete without amputation._

* * *

It's just past sunrise on the third day when Syaoran finally makes his way back into Outo with Mokona perched on his shoulder. The streets are packed, especially as he winds his way down to the docks, where he assumes the best vantage will be. It appears that the entire populace has turned out to see a mauling, and they're not terribly fussed whether it's a it a devil of the deep blue sea, a headstrong country boy, or even their very own townsfolk that's on the receiving end. They're here for blood.

They're going to be sorely disappointed.

He believes this. He has to.

"Are you sure you want to come with me, Mokona?" he whispers, "You can wait at the edge of town until I'm done. I promise I'll come back to help you find whatever you need then." He scratches her affectionately behind the ears. "It's going to be much safer up there."

"No," she says confidently, "I'm coming."

"Alright," he say, and lifts up the edge of his cloak, "But at least hide in here so people don't try to snatch you." She happily obliges him, and he quickens his pace until he is practically jogging down the hills, through the crowds, and down into the port. The crowd is the thickest here, and despite being the main attraction, he finds he has to elbow his way through just to make his way to the water.

He finds Sakura at the water's edge, and his heart skips a beat. She's dressed in the fanciest robes he's ever laid eyes on, and somehow she looks even more beautiful than the day he met her (which is impressive, because that was only two days prior). He feels slightly foolish thinking this way, but when this is finished-

"Syaoran!"

"Kid!"

He tears his eyes away from Sakura long enough to find two familiar faces in the crowd. His fathers – both of them and apparently sober – are fighting their way through the crowd toward him. This sight probably would have terrified the life out of him two days ago, but now it's almost comforting.

At least until they both attempt to hug him and manage to knock the wind from his chest instead.

"Kurogane, Fai-" he says. He's not going to cry – not here, not now, not when there is a hungry sea monster that still needs vanquishing. "I'm so sorry. I didn't-" He chokes back a sob. "How did you find out?"

"We went back to the beginning," Fai says, with a ridiculous grin, "And then Kuro-charming stormed back up Mount Olympus and started snapping columns in two until Yuuko told us what was going on."

"Fai…" Syaoran looks at his father with a healthy dose of worry. He'd seemed fairly steady on his feet only a moment ago… "Are you drunk already?"

"Not at all," he smiles, and runs a hand through Syaoran's hair, "That's for later." He drops his hand back to his side, "I'm sorry, I'm probably embarrassing you."

"No, it's fine, but I still don't-"

"You'd better go," Kurogane tells him, and nods toward the dark clouds gathering on the horizon. Syaoran nods gravely and turns to leave but-

"Are you…_holding hands_?" he gapes at his fathers.

"No," Kurogane manages with a mostly straight face, even though it's plain as day that he's threading his fingers more tightly in between Fai's even as he speaks.

"Right," Syaoran says, and stares at them in mute horror as something else dawns on him, "Is your arm off?"

"It'll grow back."

"I-"

"Hurry up or your girlfriend's brother is going to piss himself!"

Syaoran catches a glimpse of Touya's face from the corner of his eye and knows Kurogane isn't exaggerating. In two steps, he is at Sakura's side, which is exactly where he wants to be. He has no idea what to say, so he says nothing, only grips her hand and motions to his bag, to assure her he's succeeded where he promised he would.

This isn't good enough for her brother, however, who demands to see what he's brought.

Syaoran considers showing and turning him into a nice garden fountain, but he has a sneaking suspicion that will get him nowhere with Sakura, who he would very much like to see again when this is all said and done-

"It's really hot in here, you bastard! Is it showtime yet or what?"

Syaoran punches the side of the bag. The head groans in response.

"Did it…just talk?" Sakura whimpers.

"No one wants to see your ugly face, you uggo!" Mokona shouts suddenly.

Sakura's eyes go wide as the lump in Syaoran's cloak starts wiggling and wider still as a pair of wide eyes blinks back at her. "What is that?"

"Mokona, what are you doing-"

"It's time," she says, and points out to sea.

The water just off the coast appears to be boiling over, with deep dark swells overrun with a million fizzling bubbles. From below, a single eye opens to size up its prey, and the tips of hundreds of tentacles peek up over the water's surface to taste the air. Syaoran gulps down air and steels his nerves. His eyes race through the skies above for that damned messenger god. He'd promised he'd be here to judge whether their sacrifice was fitting, but now that the Largos is rapidly approaching the coastline, he's nowhere to be found.

Syaoran grips Sakura's hand. "I want you to run," he says, "Push your way through the crowd and get out of here."

"That's cowardly," she insists, "I'm staying right here until the end."

"It's coming!"

The shout first rings out from the hillside, where they have a better vantage point than those on the beach. Syaoran cranes his neck and shield his eyes and sure as day, the black figure is racing toward them. It's difficult to see beneath the surface of the water, but the black shape sucks up whatever light makes its way through the water to reach it. He reaches into the bag and twists his fingers tightly into the roots of Fei Wong's hair. A terrible scream rips its way through the crowd – Syaoran isn't sure whether it's from the head or from the Largos – and the wind whips against the shore. The Largos breaks the surface of the water and turns its eyes on the beach.

"Close your eyes!" Syaoran shouts. He waits until he's sure the monster is looking directly at him and-

"No, Syaoran, don't!"

Mokona leaps from beneath his cloak with such force that Syaoran is struck dumb and actually obeys her. He's left to watch with no recourse as she bounds across the beach and into the water and disappears beneath the waves.

The Largos ceases its advance.

"Mokona…" Syaoran says helplessly. He doesn't release his grip on Fei Wong's head for fear the Largos will start its assault again, but his jaw falls slack with disbelief. She can't –

She isn't. In the next second, a black tentacle breaks free of the water, wrapped around a small white lump. Syaoran braces himself, certain he's about to see the little creature who has helped him so much in the past few days squeezed in half.

It takes him a second to realize that she is _laughing_. And that the black tentacles, far from roiling angrily beneath the surface of the water are actually splashing excitedly.

_They're hugging_.

Syaoran releases his grip on the head and walks toward the water, still unsure of what he's witnessing. He waves his arm out. "Mokona! What are you doing?"

"Syaoran!" she shouts back, "You found him!"

"I…" He stares at the black sea creature. It's gurgling with happiness. "This is what you were looking for?"

"Yes!" she shouts back, "We've been apart for so long! One hundred years! It was so lonely!"

Syaoran doesn't know what to say to this, so he resolves not to say anything. Touya is not so tactful and shouts out to them, "Does this mean you're not going to eat my sister?"

"You won't need to feed him anymore," Mokona assures them, "I'll take care of him for here on out!"

"But-"

"It's okay, Syaoran," she says, "I'm the Creator."

"What does that mean?"

"It means you're my favorite pet!" The thrashing water settles down a bit and the tentacles wrapped around her loosen enough for her to turn to face them with a smile. "And I will always remember you!"

"Wait," Syaoran yells as the black form starts to sink back beneath the waves, "You're leaving?"

"Just for a bit!" she waves, "I'll be back again next spring! And when I come back, I want to meet your most special person."

Syaoran flushes bright red. "I'll watch for you," he tries to say, but they have already sunk beneath the waves.

No sooner have they disappeared than the crowds start rumbling anxiously. But all accounts, this is a massive disappointment; they're here for blood and guts, not a fuzzy bunny and a love-struck octopus.

It's the worst Spring Festival ever.

Or possibly the best, if your name happens to be Syaoran and you're finally face to face with a girl who you once happened to kiss because your dad couldn't keep his libido in check and then nearly destroyed the Destroyer to save. Definitely the best if your name is Syaoran and this girl still makes your heart pitter patter despite all of this and maybe, just maybe, you've finally worked up the nerve to ask her on an actual date.

It's a proud moment for his parents as well – all three of them – and certainly not a day any one of them will forget throughout their unending years.

* * *

_The ending of a story such as this has the capacity to be just as fickle as the beginning. True, the "interesting bits" have now concluded, love has prevailed, and everyone is happy (except for Touya, who died a bit inside that day). But perhaps a better ending might take the reader all the way through young Syaoran's first date, or even all the way through his wedding day (because of course he marries Sakura, don't be ridiculous). Or perhaps better yet, it might take you directly into Kurogane and Fai's bedroom (saucy – very saucy)…except that they're gods and don't need sleep and the couch works perfectly well for that sort of thing._

_And so perhaps this __is the best ending, with everyone celebrating their victory on the shores of Outo, Syaoran about to get a kiss, and Kurogane lamenting the fact the Creator of all things is a fuzzy bunny (don't worry, he'll get a kiss too, just as soon as Fai realizes it's the best way to shut him up)._

_May they all live happily ever after._


End file.
